


Wavy Relatiionships

by rothalion



Category: Army Of Two (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-14 14:10:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rothalion/pseuds/rothalion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elliot struggles to finally have a normal relationship with a woman he meets surfing. Set in the Movin' In Blues story arc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ONE Reality Bites

Note: This short piece, a few chapters at best, will take place in the _Moving in Blues_ story arc. The guys are living in Salem’s little beachside apartment and their situation has smoothed out a bit. Then Salem gets an unexpected visitor.

Warnings: Language, M/F Sex, hmmmm….

Disclaimer: I don’t own them but they are great duo to play with.

 

            _**Reality Bites**_  


 

         Rios reached into the cupboard and pulled down a large jar of Nutella, set it on the mango hued counter top, turned and surveyed his breakfast preparations. The strawberry -cinnamon and plain bagels, six each, fresh from Sand in Your Crack Bagel Bar, Kenyan Triple A coffee, fresh squeezed orange juice with and without pulp and a pound of draining, fried bacon lined the counter top. He grumbled a bit noting the condensation on the juice pitchers and started to put them back into the refrigerator when the doorbell rang.

            “Saturday, eight a.m., what the fuck? No one even knows we’re back.”

            Crossing the small living area he heard the shower still running and shook his head. For a man Salem liked long showers. Tyson hated the fact. Water didn’t come cheap and the big man ticked away the wasted gallons by the minute. What the hell was there to do in the shower? Wash, rinse, get out and well maybe a few other activities but still; Salem took too long. He peered out of the peep hole and pulled his head back surprised. A strange woman stood there. Tyson turned the deadbolt, twisted the doorknob lock and pulled the barrier open slightly.

            “Help you? You need to borrow sugar or something?”

            The brunette smiled and Rios noticed she had leaned a surfboard against the hallway wall and held a beach bag full of beach supplies.

            “Yes, but I think if I called him, Sugar and worse if you called him Sugar, he’d be a little peeved at us. Is Elliot home?”

            “Salem?”

            “Mm hmm, Elliot Salem, that one. And you are?” she asked smiling, her too white teeth flashing brightly in the hallway’s fluorescent light.

            “Rios, Tyson Rios, that one.” He countered. “Shower, come on in.”

            She nodded toward the board. “I’m Cielia. Board be safe here?”

            “Bring it in.”

            He stepped aside and let her pass. “Set the board there, with the others and come on into the kitchen. I’m making breakfast. I’ll tell Salem you’re here.”

            Cielia followed Rios through the living room looking at the pictures lining the walls as they went. She noted that the apartment was only a one bedroom and that the bedroom had only one unmade, king sized bed. Just as Rios had said, he was making breakfast and the room smelled wonderful. She took a seat at the breakfast bar and turned the Nutella jar around.

            “Help yourself. Glasses are there and coffee mugs, waiting on Salem for the bagels. Be right back.”

            “Thanks. There’s a good break, so I thought I’d see if he wanted to ride.”

            “Right.”

            While she waited Cielia poured a mug of the coffee, took a twig of bacon and wandered back to the living room, passing an overfull garbage can on her way, with a tied off plastic bag beside it. Both containers held predominately beer cans and bottles.

            It was the photographs that piqued her curiosity. All were of Rios or Salem separately or the pair together. All were of some type of military events although none seemed to be actual governmental army vehicles, aircraft, or uniforms. Salem had not been specific about what he did for a living, saying only that sometimes, as had been the situation last week, he would have to be away for differing periods of time. That hadn’t bothered the young woman. Space, as far she was concerned, made relationships stronger.

            While Cielia perused the photos Rios banged on the bathroom door. When Salem didn’t respond he opened it and stepped into the steam cloud.

            “Yo, Elliot.”

            “Look, if you are here to bitch about the water…”

            “You have, there is a certain, Cielia sitting at our breakfast bar.”

            The stall door slammed open and Salem peered out his head still full of shampoo suds terror in his eyes.

            “Bullshit!”

            “Nope, she’s reading the Nutella ingredients as we speak.”

            “Ah fuck, keep her there. Fuck Tyse; do not let her see the fuckin’ wall. Damn it.”

            “Who is she and how’d she even know we were home?”

            Elliot blinked and ran a forearm across his eyes; the soap was running down into them.

            “Guess I called her last night once we hit the ground. Didn’t invite her here, never even told her where I lived.”

            “Just hurry up ok, and yea from now on, the water bill, me one third and you two.”

            “No, Rios wait. Bring me clothes. I didn’t bring any. I’ll be naked, just a towel.”

            “So?”

            “Rios, I have to walk by the kitchen.” Salem said in a whisper. “She’s there.”

            “Soldier up, Kermit. She’s not the first woman to see your skinny ass naked, probably won’t be the last. And hurry up, breakfast’s ready too.”

            Rios pulled the door closed and returned to the kitchen. Cielia sat at the counter sipping black coffee.

         “So, what exactly is it you two do? Are you two…a together two, because I’ve been seeing Elliot for about a month now and low and behold he never mentioned a roommate, or big guns, helicopters, jungle adventures or well mostly you.”

         “That’s for Elliot to get into. We are partners, been that way for fifteen years or so. It is, what it is.”

         “I see. Well one bed unmade, no pillows on the couch, is what? What exactly is… _is what_?”

        Rios sighed and sat down across from her. “We got in late.”

         “From?”

         “We got in late, showered, drank a boat load of well-deserved beers and he stretched out on the couch. Then he came in to watch a movie with me and fell asleep. It happens. It’s a fucking big bed. He’s Salem, this is for him to explain not…”

         “Explain what?” Salem said standing just outside the kitchen with a towel grasped firmly round his narrow waist looking as if he’d rather have full, heavy armor on. Then shrugging continued, “Tyse wouldn’t bring me clothes.”

         “Yea well, your girl here helped herself to a tour of our little castle and I’m sure that your half naked ass, aint nothing she’s not already seen.” Tyson stood and crossed to the box of bagels. “Get dressed, Salem. You haven’t eaten shit in nearly four days and I know how you are and you are not hitting the beach without at least a half of a bagel in your gut.”

         Rios started to spread Nutella on a strawberry-cinnamon bagel then stopped and looked across at Cielia.

         “He needs to eat. We had a long week. I know him; so please don’t do anything to ruin his breakfast.”

         “No problem, and for your information, I haven’t seen him naked.”

         Rios looked up from the second bagel. “Imagine that. Look, this is new. I don’t want to be in the middle of this. For fifteen years, he has never had a…a…”

         “Girlfriend?”

         “Yea. At least one, that after ten minutes and fifteen margaritas hadn’t seen him naked and then some.”

         “That bothers you?”

         “No. It blindsided me.” He shoved the bagels into the toaster oven and turned back to her. “Salem is Salem. This is new behavior for Salem.”

         “What’s he like, a man whore or something?”

         “No.” Rios replied sadly regretting his previous margarita remark. “He’s Salem and I do not want you and me to get off on the wrong foot. So let’s just all have a nice breakfast. He needs food then you two can hit the water, ok."

         “Deal, Rios.”

 

 

           

           

           

           


	2. TWO Flash Bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elliot and Cielia take steps into uncharted waters.

                                                        

 

           

**_ Wavy Relationships  _ **

**_ Chapter two _ **

 

**_ Warnings: Language, graphic sex, violence. _ **

 

           “So Salem you still seeing the surfing surgeon?”

            “Why Heckler? S’really none of your god damned business.” He snapped back, before unloading a full clip into the face of his paper target fifty yards down range.

            “Christ Salem, easy boy, your shootin’ targets not tangos, lighten up.”

            “Targets, tangos it’s all the same.” Salem muttered, reloading his trusty Makarov. “Ten in the head’s ten in the head.”

            “You fucked her yet?”

            “Enough Heck, drop it man.”

            “Ooh big bad Rios is defending you _Ellie_ , what 'a you say to that?”

            “I’m serious, Heckler let it go.”

            “Rios, that boy ain’t never had a girl for longer than it took him to shoot his load, now all of sudden it’s Cielia, this and Cielia that. A fellow has a right to know. It’s been fuckin’ four months.”

            “Five and no a fellow doesn’t, so focus on your shooting, not his and let it go Heckler. That’s an order.”

            “An order, Giddy; an order from _you_? Right, like you’re not curious too. Just last night you asked me the very same question. ‘Hey Heck do you think Salem’s fucked the surgeon yet?’ Come on Salem, is she like a smart fuck being a doctor an all. Or are you a stupid fuck and she dumped your sorry little bitch ass already.”

            Salem exploded and in an instant he had Heckler in an arm bar against the wall, with the fully loaded and charged Makarov shoved beneath the man’s lightly stubbled chin.

            “Salem no!” Rios screamed.

            “Who I see, and who I fuck is none of your business.”

            Rios stepped cautiously forward when Salem wrapped his finger around the trigger, his old admonition to Elliot after Mendelssohn’s death blaring in his mind. ‘Finger on the trigger doesn’t lie.’ He looked to Guidry and then back at Salem. The man was furious. Beads of sweat dappled his forehead and his hazel eyes were glazed and full of barely controlled rage.

            “Salem let him go man. He’s just yanking your chain, he didn’t mean to get you this irate, let him go, Elliot.”

            “It’s none of his business.”

            “You’re right, it’s none of any of our business, it’s just guy bullshit Salem, that’s it man just bullshit; now let him go.”

            “I don’t _need_ that kind a bullshit, Rios!” He said jamming the gun into Heckler’s chin with each syllable. “I do not want to hear that kind a bullshit!”

            Rios was on the verge of panic. The Makarov didn’t have a light trigger pull but Salem was jamming the weapon into Heckler’s chin viciously. Giddy took a step toward the struggling men and nodded.

            “Salem! Stand down now!” Rios hollered with his full battle voice.

            The command snapped Salem out of his rage; he looked to Rios and relaxed slightly. Then in one smooth motion he shoved Heckler down, spun toward the range and emptied the old gun rapidly into the face of Heckler’s target, the ten rounds hitting in an inch and a half wide circle.

            “Fuck all of you stupid bastards. Like I fuckin’ need any of you anyway!”

            Then he packed up his gear, spit at a visibly shaken Heckler, still sitting on the floor and stormed from the range.

*******************

            “How long has he been out there?” Cielia asked Rios later that evening as they watched Salem paddle back out after riding a small wave. “I’ve been calling him since two it’s six.”

            He turned at the sound of her voice and shrugged. She was the last person he wanted to see. After Salem left the range he ditched work for the rest of the day, missing two operations briefings and a meeting with a sales representative from a new demolitions company. Stockwell was pissed, Alice was pissed and the team was aligning with Heckler. It had taken all of Rios’ negotiating skills to talk the angry men down and convince them to just let Salem settle a bit before they tried to discuss the event.

            “Rocco said since around0900, nine a.m. He’s come in for beer and that’s about it. Just out there floating around and drinking, not really even riding.”

            “Bad day.”

            “Bad day.”

            “Want me to go after him? We were supposed to have dinner.”

            “Up to you. He’s in a fucking black mood though so you might be better off leaving him be.”

            “I’ll see what I can do. Maybe I’m just what the doctor ordered.”

            Twenty minutes later she returned to the beach with her board and hit the surf. Rios watched her paddle out and pushed down the twinge of jealousy he was feeling. He didn’t, they didn’t need some new woman in their lives to smooth a bad day over. As Cielia paddled up alongside Elliot, Rios sighed and kicked himself in the ass for not just getting on his own board and going after Salem then headed back up to the apartment.

            Tyson had to admit as he rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, Heckler’s question was actually an interesting one. Had Salem slept with Cielia yet? It had been four months, five actually, if you counted the month before Rios met her, since the couple started dating. Rios knew Salem’s track record with women and he had the feeling that Cielia was no slouch when it came to finding a man to sleep with, so why hadn’t they closed the deal? Tyson felt that if the pair had, Salem would have let him know somehow. This relationship was important to him and Rios had been working extra hard to give the couple room, even spending weekends at the company barracks leaving the little apartment free for them. Sure the doctor has a penthouse but their little place was beachside on a great break so Elliot and Cielia spent the bulk of their time there. Worried and saddened by the day’s events he headed into the kitchen to make something for dinner.

            An hour later as Tyson was washing the dishes the pair came in. It was awkward. He knew that Elliot was probably ashamed at the day’s events and that he would need to talk to Rios. Fortunately Cielia read the signs and headed straight for the bathroom to change out of her wet board shorts and bikini top, giving them space.

            “You ok?” Tyson asked quietly, sliding Elliot a beer across the breakfast counter, which the man probably didn’t need.

            “Yea, fuck I don’t know. I’m mad I guess. You, Heck, fuck that, us…we ok?”

            “We’re good; you scared the hell outta me though, Salem and Heck he’ll get over himself. Giddy will talk him down. He was outta line. He should have let it go when you asked him to. He should see that Cielia’s not just some one night stand, Elliot.”

            “Yea. We’re going out to eat, Kizippy’s. If you want I can bring you something home. The Sea Scallops, you love those, the ones in garlic and mint.”

            “No, I’m good. Think I’ll go into the office for a bit. I’ve got a pile of requisitions to look over. I never seem to get them done on time.”

            “I could help, Tyse, I’m not totally book stupid, bro.”

            “I know Ellie, you have your tasks and they keep you busy enough. It’s just me. I just procrastinate and they pile up. Thanks.”

            “Ok, get in there and get cleaned up soldier; I’m starved and Kizippy’s is calling my name.”

            “Duty calls Tyse; I guess I’ll see you tomorrow and thanks.”

            “So is everything hunky dory, Rios?”

            Rios studied the cheerful doctor across the counter. For someone who was supposed to be so smart she was pretty damn dense when it came to reading Salem.

            “Cielia, no, everything is not hunky dory but far from it. Do you know what happened today, Cielia?”

            “Nope, he said it wasn’t important, just a misunderstanding at the shooting range.”

            “Right, well later on when he spins out of control on you, and he will, call me. Call me no matter how late, I’ll be there.”

            “Why do you always sell him short, Rios? Why? Are you jealous or what. He’s ok. He had a bad day at work. Happens to all of us. He’ll, we’ll manage it.”

            “Right, well like I said, call. You two have a lovely night.

************

          Later after supper Elliot and Cielia returned to the apartment. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet all through dinner despite Cielia’s attempts to cheer him up. He’d picked at his food and drank only water saying that he’d had enough beer for the day.

          “Hey, Rios is still gone, want me to come up?” She asked reaching out, taking his hand and rubbing her finger across his scarred knuckles before softly kissing his rough palm.

          “Yea, he’s probably gonna stay at the shop, give us some space. Guess the whole lot of the sorry fuckers think we should be fucking like mindlessly horny bunnies.”

          “Elliot, they’re men and that’s what man friends do. They tease.”

            “Yea, well I don’t need to hear that shit!” he snapped getting out of her car and slamming the door shut hard enough to rock the little BMW, then leaning back down and glaring into the open passenger window, “Well, you coming up or what?”

            “Sure Elliot, I’ll come on in.”

            It surprised Cielia that he’d be so sensitive about the subject. She’d gathered from hanging around the bunch that Salem was a smooth hand at picking up women. The group had frequently teased him in front of her about the issue and now suddenly it was a taboo subject. She noted the edge in his voice, the anger, both something new and Rios’ warning played in her mind.

            Once inside he drew the blinds closed and plopped down on the sofa. He looked tired and depressed, also all new moods to the doctor. Salem was typically a bundle of energy, barely constrained and on the verge of exploding.

            “Listen Elliot, if you’d rather I left I’ll understand. If you want to talk we can do that too.”

            He waved her off, stretched out on the couch and threw his right arm over his face. She sat down on the coffee table and just waited patiently for him to speak.

            “Rios tell you what I fucking did?”

            “No, I guess he figured that was up to you to do.”

            “I should probably fuck you first. After you hear you’ll be done with me too.”

            “Come to bed.”

            “What?”

            “Bed, come to bed. I tend to agree with your testosterone crazed buddies, Salem; why exactly haven’t you fucked me yet?”

            Cielia was amazed that Salem was behaving as bashfully and tentatively as he was. They’d kissed, fondled and cuddled before but it had never gone very far before Salem pulled back and made some excuse to stop. She knew he wanted her; she’d felt his cock hard, hot and moist beneath his Levis or swim trunks and she was not going to let him escape this time. Finally she took control and tried to put him at ease.

          Cielia stepped out of her jeans and slid her tee shirt seductively over her head. Then she stepped in and started to undress Elliot. He ran his calloused hands up and down her arms and through her shoulder length, thick hair, burying his face there, nuzzling and nibbling her neck and ear lobes as she cupped his balls and slid the zipper of his Levis slowly down and over his hard cock. The zipper and button free she slid the jeans down his thick twitching thighs, mouthing his erection through his underwear, feeling the goose bumps skitter down his legs when her hot breath scorched it. Finally she nudged him a bit to step out of them. Then standing back up, she kissed him deeply before running her cool, soft hands up and under his tight tee shirt and slipping it over his bowed head. Cielia pushed his terminally wayward bangs back off of his flushed face and lifted his hands to her pert breasts while sliding hers into his briefs. He reached round her narrow shoulders and clumsily undid the clips on her bra, removed it and dropped it onto the growing pile of clothing. His underwear followed, with her scant panties landing on top.

            Leaning in she suckled first his left nipple then the right and squeezed his taut buttocks. Salem ran his hands up and down along her arched spine and tight ass and buried his face between sea salt scented breasts. Finally she pushed him backwards toward the unmade bed and forced him down. Cielia knelt over him and pressed a hungry, probing kiss against his lips. Elliot responded greedily sucking in her tongue and swirling his forcefully round it. His hands found her breasts again and he delicately pinched her hardening bronze nipples. Cielia broke away from the kiss, slid down and swallowed him to his balls. Groaning he twisted his fingers in her hair and guided her up and down relishing the slick heat of her pursed lips and teasing tongue. Women had sucked him off before but this was something new and painfully sensual. Cielia cared for him, and still she was willing to do this act of selfless pleasure. Finally he pulled her up, not wanting to come just yet, not willing to lose the moment so quickly and she again attacked his mouth, sucking and toying with his swirling tongue as she settled down on him nestling his hard cock between her sopping pussy lips. He squirmed beneath her and she smiled.

          “God I have been waiting for this Elliot.”

            He looked frightened and desperate.

            “Why so afraid of this?”

            “Just don’t want to lose you, Cielia. I just…”

            She drove into his mouth again to silence his fears and slid forward and back on his throbbing cock, dragging her swollen clit across the purple tip and brushing it up and just inside her pussy. Finally she rose up and slid down onto him, clenching him tightly as her ass met his balls. He jerked upwards and grabbed her hips to hold her still. Then he rolled them over with a quick fluid twist and finally took control.

          He pushed into her slowly and gently at first trying to control himself, trying to make the moment last. For Elliot nothing in his life ever seemed to last for very long and he feared, in the deepest, rawest most vulnerable corner of his heart, that once they completed this act, an act he’d always and only known as the culmination of a relationship, Cielia would throw him away. Only Rios lasted, only Rios had kept him forever no matter how much he screwed up. But now for the first time in a long, long time Salem desperately wanted and needed someone else besides Rios to keep him. After all, Rios had already cast him aside sexually.

            Lust finally won out and Cielia wrapped her legs around his narrow hips and pounded her heels into his back.  Months, no years of pent up need took control and she arched upwards to match his meter, as he sped up and fucked her ruthlessly, her finger nails drawing blood across his strong tan shoulders. They came together. Elliot plunging into her with three quick, deep thrust his sweat slick forehead buried in her hair, against her straining neck and Cielia biting his neck to keep from screaming aloud.

          When they finished he shocked her by rolling quickly off of her and away, curling into a tight trembling ball. His reaction frightened Cielia and she immediately wrapped herself around him and tried to ease the shaking.

          “Shh, Elliot, Shh. I’m ok. I’m ok. Shh. What’s wrong? Elliot it’s alright, we’re alright. Elliot?”

          Finally he calmed a bit and she pulled the covers up and over them. Slowly he stretched out and rolled onto his back. Cielia hovered over him worriedly brushing her fingers through his tangled, sweaty bangs. He seemed distant, staring up at the slowly turning ceiling fan as tears slid down his cheeks. She’d been with several men in her thirty-five years but no previous experience had prepared her for what was now occurring. She didn’t know why he was crying but her intuition led her to believe it was a complicated issue that he possibly did not fully understand either. He looked hurt and lost and frightened all at once but what surprised her most was the guilt she read in his tear filled eyes. Why was he feeling such guilt?

          “Elliot, do you need a drink?”

          “Yea.”

          She slid from the covers and made for the kitchen, poured a three finger glass of Scotch and returned. He hadn’t moved a muscle.

          “Here, sip this.”

          He sat up a little on his right elbow, accepted the glass and downed it in one long swallow before handing it back to her.

          “Tired now, sorry.”

          “It’s ok let’s sleep.”

          “You’re staying?”

          There it was again, the fear as well as unmistakable incredulity. “Yes unless you’d rather I left. I’d like to stay.”

          “Oh, well suit yourself. I’m not the best sleeper sometimes though, good night.”

          If Cielia had any questions as to what Salem meant by his final remark they were answered a couple of hours later when the man awoke screaming in the throes of  what Cielia could only guess was a flashback. He launched from the bed and was whirling around shouting orders and screaming for Rios to cover him. Then he was screaming for Heckler as if he couldn’t find the man. He dropped to his knees and crawled round the bed ducking and rising while hollering for Rios to cover his six so he could get to Heckler; that Heckler was down, that he’d shot him. Cielia called out his name, tried to play along with the nightmare scenario, until finally after Salem stood and ran full tilt into the sliding glass doors looking out onto the beach, tearing down the blinds as he crumbled stunned to the floor, she grabbed her phone and dialed Rios.

         “Rios! It’s Cielia he’s freaking out, screaming for you and Heckler and beating on the glass doors what do I do?”

          “Talk to him. Nice and quiet, Cielia, you _have_ to be calm, he has to hear a calm voice he…”

          “Salem, no baby, no! He just smashed out the glass door, Rios he’s at the balcony railing.”

          “Calm down Cielia, I’m on my way, do not hang up, put me on speaker as loud as your phone will go and hold it out to him.”

          “Ok, done.”

          “Salem, Salem Heckler’s ok, Salem I need you to lay me down some fire on your six Salem, you with me man, I need that fire and I need it now. I’ve got Heck, he’s fine, Heck’s fine I need that fire now.”

          Salem froze and turned from the balcony railing re-entered the bedroom. He dropped down behind the bottom corner of the bed and in his tortured, memory ravaged mind set down Rios’ cover fire.

          “Roger that Rios, I got you covered, Tell Heck I’m sorry. Tyse tell him, tell him, tell him, tell him. Tyse I’m lost again; Tyse help me.”

          Then he sank down onto the floor with his back against the foot of the bed, his fists tearing at his hair and started rocking. 

          “Give him the phone, Cielia.”

          “Here Elliot, it’s Tyson.”

          He looked up at her, pale faced, confused, soaked in sweat and extended a bloody, trembling hand.

          “Ellie, I’m fifteen minutes out. I’m coming in man. I’m on my way, five klicks out, you’re safe Ellie, I’m safe, Heck is safe, the fighting’s over. I want you to stand down now Ellie, stand down.”

          “Tyse, I shot Heck. I fucked up, I thought he was a tango, I shot Heck.”

           “No Elliot, near miss, just clipped him knocked the wind outta him. He crossed your eye line. I’m coming Salem, I’m coming.”

            For Cielia those fifteen minutes seemed to take a lifetime. Elliot hung up the phone and immediately began ranting.

            “You know what I did? You know what I did for us today, Cielia?”

            “No Elliot, it doesn’t matter right now, please calm down, sit down…”

            “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I took my gun,” he crossed to her and stuck his middle and index fingers under her tipped up chin “my little Makarov and shoved it into Heckler’s throat like this, with my finger on the trigger and wanted to blow his fucking brains out all over the wall. For us, because he made fun of us! Heckler, my partner for how many years? I wanted to kill him over you who I’ve only known five months. What kinda sick, useless fuck am I, Cielia? Why would you keep me, Cielia? I almost shot Heck! I shot him, I shot him, I shot Heck!”

            He spun away and sat back down on the floor, drew his knees up against his chest, buried his face in his arms and continued to rock.

            The phone rang and she answered it.

            “Rios?”

            “Six blocks doc, just hang in there.”

            “I, we will.” She hung up and realized she was still naked. She found her clothes and quickly dressed. Salem she figured would be fine. After so many years together she was fairly certain Tyson had seen the man naked.

            Before Tyson arrived there was a loud pounding on the door. Cielia went to answer it and found two police officers in the hall.

            “We had a call, a disturbance, the glass door smashed out and some hollering.”

            “Yes officer, my boyfriend, had a flashback, nightmare, I’ve never seen him like this before, didn’t know how to manage him. His roommate, Tyson Rios, is about two blocks away.”

            “We need to come in, your names please.”

            “Doctor Cielia Davenport and his is Elliot Salem, he’s in the bedroom.”

            “You’re a doctor and couldn’t manage him?” the second officer asked insipidly.

            “Orthopedic surgeon, not exactly my area, flashbacks.”

            The older officer peered into the bedroom cautiously. “The caller mentioned shooting and guns, is he armed?”

            “No sir. They do have a gun cabinet it’s over there in that closet and locked. It was a severe flashback; they’re in the security business, private soldier types. Rios will know more.”

            “I’ll secure it.”

            “Relax, Bigelow.”

            The officer entered the bedroom, squatted down near Elliot and watched him rock for a moment.

            “Elliot, my name is Captain Garrity, do you need medical assistance buddy. It’s safe now; we can evac you, Salem.”

            “No sir. Thank you sir, Rios is coming he’ll do it; he knows what I need.”

            Garrity stood up, stepped away and dragged the comforter from the bed.

          “Elliot, it’s Captain Garrity again, I’m just going to cover you with a blanket ok, here you go buddy, that’s better. Rios is on his way up.” He bundled Salem under the blanket tucking it around Salem’s slumped shoulders then returned to the living room where Rios was filling in Bigelow.

          Once the police had gone Rios tossed the police report in the trash and immediately set about getting Salem moving and into the shower. Cielia watched the big man sooth and comfort his partner with the care and patience of an unconditionally loving friend. Salem accepted the help silently and let Rios get him settled back in the freshly made bed. The tenderness and affection that Rios showed toward Salem amazed her. His deep baritone voice was consistently calm, soothing and loving. Finally Rios went into the gun cabinet and returned with a small vial and a syringe. He carefully filled the needle and after talking very quietly to Salem while gently brushing his huge thick fingers through Elliot’s damp hair, he slipped his sweatpants over his right buttock and administered the shot. Elliot flinched and hissed as the medicine burned a bit, then Cielia saw his shoulders relax and his eyes blink four or five times.

          “Hate the shot, Tyse.”

          “I know. Sleep, Ellie sleep. I’m here now, we’re safe now. Sleep.”

          Cielia left the bedroom and sat down at the breakfast bar. It was nearly two a.m. and she had to be to the hospital at six for her rounds. She was exhausted but years of medical school and being on call had prepared her to work through it. Rios finally returned and poured them each a drink.

          “Will he stay down now?”

         “Oh yea. Amytal Sodium, it’ll keep him down through most of tomorrow.”

         “Where’d you get it? Is it legal?”

          Rios chuckled. “Long running prescription. He’s always been a handful. Ah geeze look at your neck. I’m sorry doc I tried to warn you. He sees that and he’s going to hate himself. Fuck.”

          “Just a bruise, I’ll live. Is it true what he said he did to Heckler?”

          “Yea, a bad day. I’m guessing that in his sleep he twisted up the thing with Heckler today with old shit and he was just all confused. I’m sorry you had to see him like that, and I’m sure he is too. But I guess it had to happen eventually.”

          “He should be in counseling, Rios.”

          “That is not going to happen, Cielia.”

           “Well won’t he at least talk to you?”

          “No, Salem categorically does not talk shop unless it pertains to a change in tactics, and I highly suggest you don’t push him doc, or you will lose him. You better get home, I know you have and early day and I need to be near Salem. Even drugged he knows if I’m too far away. Good night Cielia.”

          Cielia drove home fighting down tears. She was angry that Rios had summarily dismissed her. She cared for Elliot. He was the first man she actually cared for in many years and now it seemed the relationship was spinning out of control. On top of that she honestly questioned her ability to live with him. She didn’t know if she could ever get used to him having the flashbacks, and sadder still, was the reality that knowing he’d put a loaded gun to a friend’s throat with his finger on the trigger terrified her. Cielia was finally starting to understand exactly what Rios had gently been warning her about for the last few months. Salem was not an easy keeper. He was a very troubled man.

          Rios wedged the sliding screen door into place in the empty door frame, swept up the glass as best he could and righted the tossed over furniture. Finally he called into work and left a message on Alice’s machine saying that Salem had a bad night and they wouldn’t be in. It wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last. He locked the front door, shutoff the lights, crawled carefully into the bed and wrapped himself around Salem’s smaller frame. Elliot sighed and squirmed slightly but Rios shushed him and was soon fast asleep beside the exhausted younger man.

 

           

           

 

 

           

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

           

 


	3. Wavy Relationships Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a night of flashbacks Cielia and Elliot try and come to terms with his emotional turmoil.

Chapter Three

 

            Salem awoke the next day around noon. He rolled from the bed groaning and headed for the bathroom. As much as he wanted to he knew he couldn’t avoid Rios but he hoped that Cielia wasn’t there.

            “Yo, Elliot you up.”

            “Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.”

            In the kitchen Rios prepared himself to facing a groggy, guilty, sullen Salem. He knew the man well enough to know that it was going to be a long day. Cielia had called earlier asking to come over at lunch, but Rios put her off. The last thing he needed was for Salem to have to face her right now. He needed to make sure the man was stable and not still manic from the night before. He set out a plate with grilled cheese and a glass of chocolate milk both were foods that typically calmed Salem down.

            Salem shuffled out to the kitchen barefooted and slid into a stool at the breakfast bar. Rios frowned when he saw him. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. He had a large black and blue mark on his forehead and soft gauze covered the cuts on both of his hands from smashing through the sliding glass door. 

            “Here go ahead and eat something you’ll feel better.”

            “Thanks, not real hungry but I guess I should eat since you cooked it.”

            He took the glass of milk and sipped it. Rios made the best chocolate milk he’d ever tasted. He wasn’t sure why. It was only milk and some chocolate, but for some reason when Tyson made the drink it just tasted better.

“Your chocolate milk is even better than Vivian’s was, you know that.”

            “Vivian’s?”

            Rios knew Salem loved the way he mixed his chocolate milk but he’d never heard of Vivian.

“So have you heard from Cielia?”

            “Yea, she called about three hours ago, wanted to come over for lunch but I told her you were still asleep. I told her you’d call when you felt up to it.”

Salem pushed the plate with the quartered sandwich on it around in a small circle. Finally Rios picked up a piece, peeled the toasted corner of the bread back about halfway across the small square and blew gently on it to cool the cheese.

“Go on it’s cool now. Who’s Vivian?”

He handed the small square of sandwich to Salem, leaned back in his seat, crossed his arms over his broad chest and studied him worriedly.

 Salem took a bite of the sandwich, finished off the milk and pushed the empty glass across the counter to Rios.

“More please.”

The big man took it and started to make another glass while Salem rambled on about Vivian. It wasn’t often that Salem talked about growing up so when he did Tyson hung on every word.

 “Vivian, I lived with her, well her family, one of my million foster families when I was around five. My old man was in prison for some such shit and I guess my uncle wouldn’t take me again. She’d make me chocolate milk at night when I couldn’t sleep. Then let me fall asleep with my head in her lap. She sang a song too but fuck if I can remember it. She was soft; she was kind, I was happy there with them, Tyse. I got to go to school; I had a dad, a brother and sister and they loved me, well they said they did anyway, guess they did but who can say, people lie. It was like a dream, a fantasy for nearly two years. We were close to getting me adopted. Then the husband made her pregnant and said four kids was too many and I got the boot. Sent me back to the home then they sent me back to my old man when he got out supposedly reformed. Sometimes I lie awake and think I’ll look her up. Tell her thanks, but fuck if she knew what I really was, she’d just slam the door in my face.”

Tyson picked up a second square of grilled cheese and cooled it off before handing it to Salem with the fresh glass of milk.

“That stinks, Ellie.”

 “How did she sound, Cielia?”

“Fuck, what you think Elliot; she sounded concerned.”

“Right, concerned who are you fuckin’ kidding?”

Tyson sighed. Salem was an emotional roller coaster. Three sentences go by and the man jumps from childishly reminiscent to angry and belligerent.

“Nobody Elliot. Why don’t you give her some credit? You scared the shit out of her. You bruised her neck showing her what you did to Heck, you destroyed the bedroom, she’s never seen anything like one of your bad flashbacks, fuck they scare the hell outta me. Your girlfriend’s worried and scared.”

Tyson ducked as the plate followed by the half full milk glass shot within inches of his head and smashed against the kitchen window over the sink shattering it. Then he stepped back as Salem smashed and threw anything else in his reach.

“I don’t have a fucking girlfriend! I don’t want a fucking girlfriend! So just, just forget it alright. If she fucking calls fucking tell her I died. Fuck her and fuck you. She’s nothing! She’s nobody. I didn’t even want to fuck her. She made me. Fucking just ruins everything. I don’t want anybody, don’t need anybody so just tell the fucking bitch to get lost; that I died. I can die, I can and you fucking know it. Tyse?”

As abruptly as the tantrum began it ended and after the final pleading _Tyse_ , his cue that Elliot was ready for help, Rios rounded the breakfast bar and wrapped him in his huge arms. Unfortunately over Elliot’s shaking shoulders he saw Cielia standing in the open doorway, in shock her keys dangling from trembling fingertips.

Rios had no time to be angry that she’d burst in or deal with why she was there. Getting Elliot calm was his priority. He knew that although the storm had passed a wrong word or action would reignite the flames. He shook his head no to Cielia but she frowned, ignored him and moved quickly forward. She wrapped her arms around Elliot from behind and spoke softly into his ear.

“Shh. I’m here now. Everything is going to be ok. Let him go, Rios. Elliot baby I’m here we’re going to be ok. Rios back off.”

Rios stepped away reluctantly. He looked to Salem for instructions but the younger man just slumped a bit in Cielia’s arms and shook his head.

“Talk to me Ellie.” Rios prodded softly. Ignoring the furious glare Cielia was sending him.

“I she’s like Vivian Tyse. Just scares me. It’ll be ok.”

Tyson nodded and moved toward the still open front door. As he began to pull it closed behind him Elliot called out pulling free of Cielia’s arms.

“Tyse, you’ll be close. I can call if I want right Tyse. You’re not mad?”

Rios looked to Cielia then back at a visibly concerned Salem.

“Always, Ellie always. I’ll just be down at Rocco’s. Love you Elliot.”

Cielia watched Salem watch Rios disappear into the hallway pulling the door closed gently behind him. Then without turning to face her Elliot spoke in a very quiet, tense voice.

 “You heard everything.”

Cielia considered for a split second lying. But her gut told her that Elliot would see through it.

“I did.”

He nodded, ran his hand back though his hair then went and sat down heavily on the couch.

“Then I guess we have some talking to do.”

She turned and surveyed the destroyed kitchen, then looked back at Salem slouched on the sofa. They did need to talk but his tone was semi-belligerent and that worried her. He’d just blown up at Rios and Rios was only trying to settle him down, explain the situation and reassure Elliot that Cielia had not run away. What was she supposed to do? Suddenly she regretted allowing Rios to leave. Being alone with Elliot in this frame of mind reiterated to her just how far out of the man’s emotional loop she was. Resolved she went into the small living room and sat down on the coffee table in front of him.

“So I guess that’s it hunh. You’re gonna haul ass right?”

“No.”

“You heard what I said. Why the fuck were you even here! Rios told you to stay the fuck away.”

“I came by anyway. I have the key. I was in the hall. I heard you screaming. I don’t know Elliot, I came in I was worried.”

“Guess you wish you hadn’t, or maybe you’re glad you did.”

He stretched out on the couch on his right side so Cielia slid off the table and sat on the floor near his head.

“I am. It hurt to hear but I’m glad I did and no I’m not running away. I guess I’ll go if that’s truly what you want but I’d like to try and work this all out. You have to talk to me though Elliot I’m not a mind reader.”

She reached out, brushed her fingers back through his hair and rubbed her thumb along his right cheek bone studying the old faint scar from Bosnia.

“Like this how’d you get this scar? We can start from the outside Elliot and work our way in. But you have to let me in. I know I’m not Tyson I can never be Tyson but if you want us, this…”

“The scar’s none of your business.” He snapped sitting up and forcing her backwards. “I don’t talk shop. I keep _telling_ you that.”

That much was true. She had tried on numerous occasions to get him to talk about his work or childhood, the scars she saw when they surfed but just as Rios had warned her; Elliot stubbornly refused to budge and give up even the tiniest of clues.

Cielia followed him across the room and into the wrecked bedroom. He dragged open a drawer and started changing into battered jeans and a tee shirt. Then he slapped his hat on backwards, pulled on socks, stood back up, turned to exit the room and stopped short when he saw Cielia blocking the doorway.

“What? Fine, lunch let’s just fucking go have some lunch. Last night didn’t happen, I will not talk shop and you’re right C you won’t ever replace Tyson.”

She held her ground. He might be bigger, not much taller actually but more muscled, and she’d seen how quickly he could become violent but she hadn’t survived medical school and her internships because she was weak.

“ No. Damn it Elliot if I’m going to have to manage nights like last night then I am going to need to know what the hell you two do exactly. Not just some vague, candy coated generalities but facts. You are covered in scars, you have a closet full of guns, you disappear for days on end and return looking like you’ve been through hell and now I find out that you have horrific flashbacks, that you’re unstable enough to shove a loaded gun in one of your oldest and only friend’s throats. Ellie for god’s sake look at me talk to me.”

Salem was at a loss. She should be backing down. Hadn’t he made the arrangement perfectly clear?

“How am I supposed to talk to you? You must be fuckin’ deaf.” He shouted closing in on her and getting in her face. “I do not talk! Not to Rios, not to Alice, not to the shrink the fucking company sends me to, Elliot Salem doesn’t need an outlet outside of killing, Vodka, strip joints and fucking some bitch senseless who he’ll never see again and who could care fucking less how he got some scar or broken bone and who’ll never see his bedroom so she won’t have to _manage_ his nightmares. That’s the package Cielia. Lunch or not it’s your fucking call. If not I think I’ll just go and partake in all of the above activities until Rios finds me and drags my sad, drunk ass home.”

Cielia took a step back but didn’t clear the doorway. This was it she knew. Whatever decision she made here would decide the outcome of their relationship. If she went to lunch it meant she’d given in and he’d be allowed to continue slowly self-destructing. It was painfully clear to her that Rios and Salem’s other friends were either content to see him waste away, were too stupid to see the damage enabling his behavior was causing or they too were as emotionally scarred from their profession as he was and just didn’t see that there was anything wrong with him. Conversely if she let him go and he did all of the above activities would she be able to reconcile his acting out once he settled back down and still try to heal the relationship. Cielia was no fool. They’d been dating for nearly six months and when it had become clear that Elliot was either not interested in sex with her or simply didn’t want the relationship to take that route she’d seen a few of her regular male friends. It was just the way it worked. She cared for Elliot but they’d never officially made their relationship exclusive. With that in mind she elected to let him go out and do his worst. After all they were not adolescents with silly ideas of monogamy and maybe after five months he needed a taste of freedom to help him decide just which way he did want to go with her. The problem was that by asking his friends questions when she could get them alone, Cielia knew that Salem had not gone to any of his regular haunts and had not been with any other women. Was that his way of displaying his choice for exclusivity? She hoped not, because if it was she’d failed on her end. She swallowed hard and fought back tears before speaking, hoping that the anxiety raging in her mind would not eek through in her voice.

“It’s alright, go and enjoy yourself Elliot. I’ll see you tomorrow after my shift.”

He stared at her silently. The doctor read rage in his hazel eyes and knew she’d made the right choice. He blinked and his lower lip twitched as he took a step forward. When she held her ground he reached out, placed a hand on the door frame on either side of her head and continued to glower down at her. Cielia was certain there were tears welling in his eyes and she nearly gave in and threw her arms around him. He was desperate, he was lost and she knew he wanted her to tell him what to do. She had no intention of letting him off that easily. Rios, she knew would have caved in but Elliot had given her the ultimatum and she had chosen. She stared him down and waited for what seemed an eternity before he sniffled and blinked setting the tears free to finally slip down his anguished face. That was for Salem the culmination of the encounter and to try and cover up his apparent weakness he lashed out at her once more.

“Move you ungrateful fuck and don’t ever, don’t ever fucking call me Ellie again! I’ll never be Ellie to you!”

Cielia stepped aside wordlessly and watched him complete the destruction of the kitchen in search of the keys to his motorcycle and his wallet then head for the door. As he passed the wall of photos he suddenly stopped, turned back, went into the bedroom and slammed open the closet door. Cielia turned and watched as he tore through a box of photographs until finally finding the one he wanted and returning to her. She crossed her arms over her breasts and stared at him defiantly.

“You want to know what we do.” He screamed holding the photo up directly in front of her face only inches away. The photograph’s detail was incredibly fine so it didn’t take her long to sort out the situation it recorded.

It showed a small group of men carrying various weapons with one talking on a radio, all huddled in a forest clearing. There was knee deep snow on the ground and they all looked exhausted, filthy and terrified. They stood watching a quartet of similarly clad soldiers who knelt over a final man in an area of flattened snow, obviously wounded and by the look of anguish on his face in horrible pain. Cielia knew form the size of large bright red blood stain fanning out around the injured soldier’s right side that situation was dire.

The first kneeling man, Giddy, knelt on the victim’s left side holding his head by the chin and forehead, between bloody hands tilting it back slightly. He was leaning down close to the man’s ashen face looking upward a bit, obviously having just finished preforming mouth to mouth. Bright crimson blood stained his stubbled chin, nose and lips she blanched slightly knowing that the victim had spit it up into his mouth.

 The second man, whom she did not know, was fighting to control his wounded partner’s thrashing legs. The third man, Heckler, and for some reason this shocked her, held an I.V. bag attached to the downed man’s right arm aloft in his left hand and his right hand pressed a  blood sodden wad of bandages against the wound with his index finger shoved down deeply into what had to be the bullet hole. Cielia could clearly see that Heckler had a knee firmly planted in victim’s right palm to hold the arm still. He looked to the left, his mouth wide open screaming something toward the man with the radio. The forth soldier, Rios, was hunched over preforming frantic CPR, with his head tipped upward. The normally calm and controlled man’s dark eyes were full of terror and locked with Giddy’s blue ones, imploring the older man for answers. She gasped when she identified the face between Giddy’s blood soaked hands as Salem’s.

Salem heard her gasp and threw the picture across the room. It slammed into the surfboards, knocking them over and smashing on the Terrazzo floor.

“That’s what we do. We die and die and die and die so that people like you can live the high life in Brentwood before scooting off to party away a few years at university playing at becoming a doctor or lawyer or some other money hungry fuck that bleeds the rest of humanity dry. Heck held his finger in the hole in my chest for over an hour in the chopper to stop the bleeding and I nearly killed him over you! I died three times that day and no Cielia I do not want to talk about it, or how devastated Rios was after I woke up after three weeks in a coma, after three weeks of thinking he’d lost me or the months of rehab or the unimaginable pain. No Cielia I don’t want to remember and I will do everything in my power not to even if that means losing you.”

Then before she could reach out and grab him he was gone. She tried to catch him going down the stairs but he was too fast and by the time she made it into the parking garage she only caught a glimpse of him tearing around the corner and popping a wheelie as he gunned his big red Ducati to full throttle.

As she turned to head back to the elevator Rios and Rocco came charging into the underground garage. The sound of Salem’s Ducati at full throttle was unmistakable and when the pair heard it they knew immediately something was wrong.

“What the hell’d you say to him!”

Cielia could only shake her head as tears slipped down her flushed cheeks.

“Obviously, all the wrong words Rios, all the wrong words.”

“And did he say where he was going, if he manages to survive the fucking trip?”

“To quote him,  _‘Elliot Salem doesn’t need an outlet outside of killing, vodka, strip joints and fucking some bitch senseless who he’ll never see again and who could care fucking less how he got some scar or broken bone, one who’ll definitely  never see his bedroom; so she won’t have to manage his nightmares. That’s the package Cielia. Lunch or not it’s your fucking call. If not I think I’ll just go and partake in all of the above activities until Rios finds me and drags my sad, drunk ass home.’_  I need to go back up and fetch my keys then I’ll get out of your way.”

“Come on I’ll walk you up, later Rocco, and hey if anyone mentions seeing him out, call.”

“You know it, man.”

Upstairs Rios took in the newest destruction of the apartment. He picked up the surfboards then the thrown photo and carefully brushed away the shards of glass. He hated the picture which was why it had no place on the wall. Cielia stepped up beside him and touched it rubbing her index finger across the fallen Salem.

“I nearly lost him that time, it was close. It wasn’t really until this, that I truly understood how he must have felt trapped alone blind and deaf for nearly three hours after that fucking case of flash bangs blew up on us, wrecked my face and trapped us in a mud hovel in Turkey. I could feel him cradling my head in his hands. I could feel him rocking back and forth. I could tell by the way he was touching me, because he was hurting me that he couldn’t see. Hell I knew by the way he was gasping for breath that he was sobbing and screaming into his headset but I couldn’t hear the words and neither could he. It’s one of the bad times that fuel his flashbacks.”

“I pushed him.”

“No he’s just Salem. You need to trust me when I try and help you help him. Go home and this time give us some space. I’ll find him I always do.”

 


	4. Four

**_ Wavy Relationships  _ **

**_ Chapter Four _ **

 

 

 

Later that night, about 2230, in a fish camp bar thirty-five miles west of Miami on State road 41, that Rios and the guys had no idea Salem occasionally frequented when he wanted to stay off of Rios’ radar; the young man dropped another ten dollars into the juke box. It made the evening’s total about 250 bucks. The bartender, an old Florida shrimp fisherman, told Elliot he’d be better off just buying the aging old machine. Salem had shown up in the sketchy joint around 1300 hours, and had been drinking steadily except for a brief siesta he’d taken from 1930 hours until 2100 out on the deck overlooking the Everglades. Now he was up, and at it again. Carlisle, the bar’s owner, wished that he’d leave. He knew from first-hand experience that when Elliot was spinning out of control the way he’d been all day the situation would not end well.

“Hey hippie dick, I done asked you ten times now to please stop playing that same fucking song over and over!”

“Fuck you! My money; my choice. Just watch your stupid round-d-round race, and fuck off. Talk about boring, fuck, around and around and around; that shit’s boring.”

“Round-d what? This is NASCAR, hippie dick. Are you some kind a commie fucker? It’s god damned un-American to not love NASCAR, sonny! Now turn that hippie, acid trip’n shit down, or pick another song.”

“Lighten up Bubba, just relax.” Carlisle plead, “I’ll handle him.”

The old, barrel chested fisherman ambled out from behind the roughhewn lumber bar, and made for where Elliot was shooting pool with a very innocent looking tourist who’d wandered in with a few buddies for dinner and a beer. They were pale, obviously northerners, and seemed oblivious to the somewhat seedy environs of the fish camp bar, not to mention the powder keg situation that was brewing.

“Salem, my friend, I’ll give you back the money. I’m just asking that you pick a different song, or let me turn it down a notch.”

Salem leaned over the cue ball, and unsteadily aimed his cue stick. He struck the white ball deftly, despite his level of intoxication, and stood smiling as the eight ball dropped into the side pocket after banking off of two rails.

“That’s another ten and a beer, Yank, wanna do double or nothing?” The kid ante upped, and began racking the balls.

“Salem come on; the music, what ‘a you say? You’ll can just keep playing the old eight ball over here, and Bubba can have his race over yonder. Volume down just a little bit.”

“Fuck Bubba. I was here first.”

Bubba over heard him, and stalked toward the pool table. The Yank backed off a bit as the two men sized one another up. Carlisle went six foot four easy and 290 pounds minimum. Salem just smiled innocently and drunkenly up at the scruffy man, and grinned.

“Counting that snuff spit stiffened bit of your moustache there, I’d say you have what, all a about three teeth Booby.”

“Bubba.”

“Yea, whatever.” Salem sneered, and then backed away to break the now racked pool balls. “Watch my six now, Yank. Booby’s gun’n for my skinny little bitch ass. I offended his religion. He’s one a those,” he bowed his head reverently in prayer and went on, “ _Our father who’s Dale Earnhardt, hallowed be his restrictor plated name, his kingdom come, the 500 will be won on earth as it’s fuckin done in racing heaven. So give Bubba here this day, and his possum pie, and pray that soon the stupid fucks‘ll learn to drive the opposite way._ _’cause on that day ‘ol Dale’ll rise up again an they’ll be peace and joy in his round-d-round domain. Amen_.” Then he looked up, and broke the balls up. “Looks like I’m solids, Yank; seven ball, two rails in the corner pocket.”

Bubba was infuriated, and Carlisle placed his hand against the huge, overall clad man’s chest to push him away.

“I’ll kill you, you little long haired, commie son of a bitch. I will break you skinny fuckin’ neck. I’m gonna stomp you senseless! You makin’ fun a number three?”

“Commie son of a bitch. Commie son of a bitch. Do I look like a communist to you Yank? Don’t answer that kid; they come in _all_ shapes and sizes. Believe me you, ‘cause I have killed them all over the world. What I am though, Booby, is a real mean son of a bitch when I’m pushed. And right now you are pushing me. Now go on over, like Carlisle told you to do, and watch your race. That way, unlike the old Intimidator, you’ll live to race another day. Your shot Yank; I shanked the last one.”

Carlisle led Bubba back to his seat at the bar, and returned to his station. The juke box continued to blare out Godsmack’s _Time Bomb_ , and Bubba kept throwing the younger man glares from across the room. Finally there was yellow caution flag, and Bubba couldn’t hear the commentator. He got up from his chair, crossed to the juke box, and with Salem playing air guitar, and screaming the final stanza,

_‘I’m a bad motherfucker who lives it every day_  
You never look at me now.  
You never look me in the face.  
I’m a time bomb, Yeah! 

along with the band’s singer, Sully Erna; the big red neck yanked the plug out of the wall. As he was just about to take his seat again he heard Salem holler.

“Frag out!”

A second later the forty-two inch, flat screen television exploded in a hail of glass and sparks showering the men sitting at the bar. The perfectly thrown cue ball had hit the device dead center. Before anyone could react Salem’s second throw exploded the next screen, and the following three sets met with the same fate. Carlisle, his bouncer and Bubba were on Salem in a flash, but despite out weighing the man, and being three against one it took them ten long minutes of beating, and kicking him senseless to get him out of the bar, and thrown roughly into the gravel and sand parking lot. All three men had suffered the smaller man’s wrath and now nursed their collective wounds while watching him collect himself in the dirt. Carlisle recovered first.

“Now get on that fuckin crotch rocket a yours, and get the fuck off my place, and don’t come back here Salem. That’s seven TVs in a year, and I’m through with your shitty temper boy. Now git.”

Salem spat out the blood and dirt filling his mouth, stood up wobbling a bit before finding his balance. He yanked a wad of fifty and one hundred bills from his left front jeans pocket, and tossed it toward Carlisle.

“Here, that’ll take care of it, Carlisle, and fuck you too.” He gasped through spilt lips.

The older man watched him stager round and stumble toward the big Ducati. He sighed when his fatherly instincts kicking in.

“Elliot, wait boy. You can’t ride that thing like this; wait up, and let me call someone for you. Wait.”

Salem ignored him, got on the bike, started it, and after backing it up spit down at Carlisle’s bare feet, while gunning the engine. The bar tender stepped in front, straddled the wheel, and pushed back against the handle bars.

“Come on Elliot please. I don’t want to read about you in the paper man, please.”

“Later bro, I’m off to see the old Intimidator up on that great big race track in the sky.”

Then Carlisle and his bouncer jumped back out of the way as Salem blasted through them, and onto 41 heading west with the red bike pulled up onto the rear wheel. Carlisle considered calling the highway patrol then reconsidered. If the boy had a death wish so be it. Some men just hurt too much to live forever, and who was he to try and keep the boy alive. All he could do was hope nobody else was hurt in the process.

 

 

 


	5. Five

**_ Wavy Relationships  _ **

**_ Chapter Five _ **

 

Back at the little apartment Rios opened his eyes to the sound of keys in the front door. If it was Cielia he was going to feed her another ration of shit. She’d called him twice an hour all day, and the final call had ended badly, with Rios more or less telling her to go get fucked, followed by him blocking her number from his phone. He’d searched everywhere for Salem to no avail. As had always been the case Salem had an “around place”, the problem was, just as before, Rios had absolutely no clue where it was. He sat up slightly in his recliner, and listened. Finally the door pushed inward banging hard against the wall, and he knew, without being able to see, that it was Elliot. A very intoxicated Elliot.

Rios heard Salem’s keys jangle on the floor after he dropped them, followed by the door slamming shut. Then, he heard the sound of Elliot careening into the little table, clearing it of its contents; followed by a body thumping to the floor. Still Rios didn’t move a muscle. Soon enough he once again heard Salem bouncing along the hallway wall before finally coming into view. Rios leaned over, turned on the chair side lamp, and studied the younger man.

“Elliot.”

“Fuck you too.”

Rios sighed, would the man ever grow out of his destructive behavior?

“Elliot, come here man, come on, and sit down.”

Salem only laughed a bitter laugh, and continued stumbling for the kitchen. He fell again slamming hard into the refrigerator, the twelve pack of Budweiser bottles spilling from its cardboard case. Rios stood, and started toward the kitchen angered that anyone with half of brain would sell the clearly inebriated man more alcohol. Conversely, he thought, if Salem wanted the twelve pack badly enough he’d simply threaten the poor clerk with bodily harm, and the beleaguered attendant would smile, and complete the sale.

“Easy Elliot, let me give you a hand man, come on now.”

“Fuck away from me. Don’t need any a you fuckers.”

Rios reached down, and grabbed him under his arm pits hoisting him to his feet.

“I know you don’t man, but just humor me ok. I never sleep worth a fuck without you nearby.” He lied.

Salem struggled weakly in his grip, but Rios muscled him toward the sofa. He pressed him down onto the leather cushions, and then studied his battered face in the light.

“Christ Elliot. Look man just settle in here, and I’ll get the kit, and clean you up, ok.”

“Beer me.”

“Sure. Don’t move though.”

Rios went into the kitchen, picked up the fallen bottles, and after opening one dumped two thirds of it down the sink drain. Then he replaced the lost beer with cold water from the fridge. What Elliot didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and as drunk as he was he wouldn’t know. On his way back he grabbed a med kit from the hall closet, and steeled himself up to repair Salem's newest damage. As he reached the sofa he sighed in absolute relief. Salem was out cold, flopped over onto the couch on his right side.

Rios pushed the glass coffee table back slightly, kneeled down, and removed Salem’s sneakers. Then he scooted him along the sofa toward the left far enough so that he could get his legs up to make him a bit more comfortable. He removed the bloodied shirt, and tossed it aside grimacing at the welts forming along the smaller man’s ribs, and finally he set about cleaning the gashes on Elliot’s face and re-bandaging the deep gash on his left hand from smashing the glass door out. Job completed he checked his watch. It read 0245; with any luck Salem would be up for work at least half way sober come 0700. It wouldn’t bode well for him to miss a third day that week. Content that Elliot was as comfortable as possible Rios plopped heavily down in his recliner, took out his phone, and unblocked Cielia’s number.

“Rios!”

“You’re a quick one, doc. He’s home. Beat to shit, but home. Now I want you to listen to me lady, and listen god damned close. I have busted my fat ass keeping that boy alive for nearly ten years now. I have suffered his tantrums and suicide attempts and vanishings. I have seen him through injuries and wounds that would make a day in your clinic look like a cake walk. I have force fed him, breathed life into him, and kick started his heart on more than one occasion. I have suffered his pain through all of that shit just as acutely as he did. That being said doc, I will categorically not allow you to threaten what little fucking sanity he has left; I don’t give rat’s ass how much it will break your happy little heart. Are you hearing me lady? You will not see, or call him until he calls you first, is that clear. I have my lawyer sitting on a restraining order. Give him some time to settle down. He’s a damn fine man, and he’s just in way over his head emotionally with you right now. He is scared and hurting and panicked. Give him some breathing room. Now he’s going in to work in the morning. He needs to get moving again so I can steer him back on track. If he chooses to call you, great, if not just sit tight, and see what happens. Have a beautiful day.”

He hung up before she had time to respond, and once again blocked her number from his phone.

The smell of coffee awoke Tyson, and he coughed while rubbing his face to try and get a handle on the situation. Murray had called around 0445 to inform him that they day’s agenda had dramatically changed. Instead of going in at 0800 for a typical day they were to report prepared to go wheels up to the Balkans at 1000 hours. He’d listened to her instructions, and then shut himself down to try and get as much rest as possible. Now though, at 0730, he was awake, and confused. The smell of coffee wafted through out the small apartment, and he could hear the sound of Elliot's voice drifting in from the balcony. It really didn’t surprise him that Salem was up and about. The man had a pretty tough constitution.

Rios stretched, stood, and after stopping in the kitchen for coffee went into the bathroom to shave, and get ready for the day. He could pick up bits and pieces of Elliot’s conversation, and it was quite clear that he was speaking with Cielia. As he finished up he heard Salem say that he would see her at HQ at around 0945. Rios frowned at the remark. He damn sure didn’t need her pulling, ‘Oh baby please don’t get blown away. Please quit and be with me forever scene.’ He threw the towel into the hamper noting that Salem had already showered, and packed his toiletries, then headed for the balcony. He tried to remain calm, and not allow his disdain for Cielia to temper his actions.

“What the fuck’s that all about? I’ll see you at HQ. What the fuck Salem.” He spat out failing miserably to control his anger.

Salem, dressed only in his board shorts, looked up at the big man, and sighed. He quickly   rehearsed his prepared defense countering Tyson’s dislike of his plan, but he really did not wish to fight to make his point. He took a sip of his coffee, and sat up a bit straighter.

“Just so you know, Boss, I called her; so call off your lawyer.”

Tyson grunted, and furrowed his brow at the man. Boss, he hated when Elliot tried to kiss his ass, but he accepted the off handed apology, and took a seat across from him.

“Talk.”

“I called her after I talked to Murray. I know, I know, how is that I’m up, and at it after last night. Well I puked my fucking guts up around 0600, and before I could settle in again I noticed that Murray had called. So I called in. I, well we arranged for Cielia to watch the op go down in real time. All she needs to do is sign a confidentiality clause, and they’ll clear her to observe.”

Tyson just stared at him. He wanted to scream at him, shake him, or slap him silly, but he sat frozen in a sort of mute shock. Leave it to Elliot to figure out the absolute grizzliest way to end a relationship. Yes, just invite the little lady to observe you whacking eight or ten insurgents, assassinating their leader, and blowing up their fortress. Not to mention possibly getting killed during the whole dog and pony show.

“I see.” Was all he mustered up.

“Look she wants to know what I do so I’ll just show her. A picture’s worth a thousand words, right Boss?”

“Boss? A picture’s worth…? Elliot, Salem, Kermit…Did it, has it occurred to you Salem to just tell her some stories. Just…”

“I ain’t talking about it! It makes it real!”

“Ok Elliot, ok; you’re right. It ain’t real unless we say it out loud.” Tyson agreed holding up his hands in surrender. “Look, I’m gonna get packed. I suggest you do the same.”

“Already done. I just need to change. I’ll get the weapons out too, so just take your time Boss, and thanks for understanding.”

“Yea right, I understand alright, and stop calling me, Boss.”

 

 


	6. six

**_ Wavy Relationships  _ **

**_ Chapter Six _ **

 

 

Rios and Salem pulled into the SSC headquarters parking lot at 0930. Cielia was already there leaning against her little BMW. Salem lugged his duffle, and gun bags from the truck, and went directly to her.

“Hey, Cielia, I don’t have long, and you need to get with Alice to sign the stuff so…”

She silenced him by leaning in, and kissing him. He startled slightly at her forwardness, and stepped back a bit.

“Like I warned you, once we go active I’m off limits.”

“I understand, Elliot.”

She took his hand, and studied the bandage. He’d told her the rules repeatedly over the phone. Once the op began all she’d be able to do is sit back quietly and observe. It terrified her to even consider what she might see, but her feelings for him countered that fear. If it took her having to suffer along with him through the operation then she’d do it. He was, for her, worth the effort.

“Ok, well Tyse is waiting, and we really do have a lot to do. Once you sign, Alice will bring you back downstairs. You can watch us load and stuff. Then we do our team meeting. That’s Tyse’s time. Our time to settle things between us. I’ll settle with Heck. Can’t have us dying enemies right? And we all just… well it’s our time, and it’s personal, could be the last we ever see each other you know so… so you can’t be in with us for that. So this is it. This is good-bye, Cielia.”

He shrugged, and tried to smile but couldn’t. His stomach was in a knot, and his head was pounding. Part of it was his hangover, and part his anxiety about having her there. He figured he should do like Rios, and the guys did when they left their wives. He should hug her, tell her he loved her, and that it will all be ok. That they all had each other’s backs. He should offer her a kiss, and a smile, but none of those actions seemed natural so he opted to forgo them all.

“So, well yea, see ya in a week or so.”

Then he was gone, and Murray stepped, surprisingly eagerly, in to lead her away. Cielia was at a loss. The grim, fatalistic bent that he’d shown un-nerved her, and she struggled to keep her courage up. All she truly wanted to do now was run as far away from him as she could get. Murray drew her attention by opening the door, and ushering her into her office.

“Have a seat.”

Cielia sat.

“I just need you to sign here and here. It states that everything you hear, or see during your visit is confidential, and should you breach that trust we have the right to pursue you under the full extent of the law for contract infringement.”

“You seem entirely too willing to have me here, Alice. Did you agree to this as a feint in hopes I’d run away?”

Alice smiled demurely, and pushed the contract closer toward the doctor. She had, of course, considered the idea. She knew Elliot’s emotional state intimately, and she’d observed the roller coaster ride he’d been on since beginning to date Cielia five months ago. She had discussed her concerns with Dr. O’Dell, the company mental health professional, and he seemed to think that the relationship would reach its apex, and flare out. Elliot, he’d informed her, had little or no clue about having a relationship, and since he was emotionally a closed book there was little he or any of them would be able to do to help him.

“Cielia my job is to keep my guys physically and mentally sound. Salem is quite the challenge on both counts. He’s small, and struggles to keep up physically as you will soon see, and emotionally he’s a crap shoot. You coming into the picture has definitely muddy the waters, but I would never consider doing anything that would jeopardize his happiness. He’s suffered enough. If you are concerned that someone is setting you up to haul ass from this relationship, then when Elliot returns I suggest you confront him with your concern. He can be a bit Passive Aggressive. Now if you want to watch them load up we should hurry along or they’ll already be in their cloister time.”

Back down in the vast underground staging area Murray led the doctor toward where Team Delta was checking through their gear boxes. All of the men were in their combat gear. Salem was in a close discussion with a man loading cases marked with explosives on them. He had the case with his Fifty in one hand, and his gear bag in the other. She found it odd to see him in such a serious setting taking care of what was obviously an important task. It wasn’t that she doubted his abilities, it was just that he just always seemed so aloof, and the guys never really seemed to give him much credit or respect.

As she watched he strode away from the van, and settled in near Rios, Heckler and Pedro. Rios reached over and adjusted the wire coming from Salem’s ear, tugged at a few of Elliot’s straps, spun him around, and adjusted a small square box resting on his right shoulder, checked the back of his vest, then spun him back round again, and nodded at him. Then he grasped each man by their shoulders, and shook them gently before him and Pedro drifted away leaving Heckler and Elliot alone. She moved a bit closer to try and hear the conversation.

“Look Heck…”

“No Fifty it’s on me man, I pushed the buttons, and I got the prize. Nobody can ever come between _us_ right? It’s old water under the bridge.”

“Yea, I know, and I’m just lost in it all Heck. I’m fucking drowning. I feel like I jumped off that fucking bridge, and now I’m drowning.”

“Remember Somalia when that bank gave way, and we went into the drink? I saved your skinny ass that day. You panicked Fifty, and then you panicked ‘cause you panicked, but then you saw the light, and it was all golden again. The same goes for her, you’re scared, and you’re panicking. Just go with it man, just fuck, Fifty, we’re all here man, we’ve all been down that road; so talk to us ok, just stop bottling this shit up. You need to give this bullshit job up, and make wine ‘cause you’re god damned good at bottling shit. Now enough said, we have a job so let’s give ‘em hell.”

The sound of Rios hollering broke up the meeting.

“Let’s go, everyone inside, line it up.”

The men meandered toward the door of their conference room. Salem, to Cielia’s surprise, took up a spot to the right side of the door frame and waited. Then, as if on cue, the team moved forward. As each man reached Elliot they pounded their clenched right fist three times against Salem’s chest over his heart. Rios was the last man, and once he was in the room Salem followed, and pulled the door closed. Murray called for the doctor, and Cielia with a heavy heart, followed the mission runner back to the elevator, and up to the tenth floor control center. It would be nearly two weeks before she’d she Elliot face to face again.

 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cielia gets to watch the guys at work.

**_ Wavy Relationships _ **

**_ Chapter Seven _ **

**_ NOTE: _ ** _The up-coming mission has absolutely no basis in any historical context, and is a complete fabrication._

 

 

Cielia took a seat in the comfortable high backed, nearly form fitted chair that Alice motioned her to. The chair’s design allowed the operator to adjust several aspects of its configuration making sitting in it for long periods of time possible. It even reclined back into a bed of sorts. Once Alice finished explaining how to customize the seat the contract writer gave her a head set, and after clicking around on a keyboard four large, flat computer screens flickered to life in front of the nervous doctor. A few moments ticked by, and a series of windows began to populate the center right monitor, and the display finally settled into a screen with the names of the team members along the left side, followed by a HUD display showing a GPS location for each man. Following the location indicator was a row of the operators’ vital signs; beginning with his blood pressure, heart rate, respiratory rate, body temperature, oxygen absorption rate, and the last was an alarm flag for if they didn’t move for a certain period of time.

The center left hand screen finally loaded, and Cielia could see that it was a very high quality satellite image of Miami, and in the center, circled with a bubble of sorts, was SSC headquarters. The circle blinked slowly, and it only took the doctor a moment to see that the latitude and longitude reading for the team was the same as listed in the little bubble. It obviously showed where the men were in real time.

The far left screen made less sense to her. It was another Satellite image, but far more detailed, at street level or nearly so, and chris crossed with a series of lines, and several blinking balloons. As she studied it the image clicked through a series of screen changes dancing from green, to red, to blue, and back to a day time display. The process repeated over and over, and finally confused by it she looked away figuring that Alice would explain it.

The fourth screen on her extreme right was a blank screen split into halves. The right half had Salem’s name, his GPS coordinate, and a long bar of tiny green boxes. The left side held the same information about Rios.

“Ok Cielia,” Murray began after taking her own seat to the doctor’s left. “The center right screen, as you can see, is information on the guys. They are all wearing specially designed under garments that measure the readings that you see. It is still in a developmental stage, and the DoD contracted SSC to test it out. So far it has proven to be not only very accurate, but it allows us to design very individualized training regimes for the men once our physicians interpret the collected data. Right now our focus is on comfort. The current wearable harness requires streamlining, and Salem and Rios are both wearing the newest versions on this op. You have heart rate, B.P., O2 absorption, etcetera as you can see there. The last is a flag if they stop moving. I can adjust the time before an alarm sounds, or just shut it down for when they sleep.

The next screen to your right is their helmet cams. Salem to the right, and Rios to the left they will record, and we will be able to watch exactly what they see during the op. If they are separated they have the ability to watch each other through the same system on a HUD inside of their masks. The green bar is what we call their aggrometer. As they either take fire, or fire aggressively that bar will shift from green to red. This allows them to control how _hot_ their situation is, and adjust their actions accordingly. If Salem is hot Rios can execute a flanking maneuver, and so forth.

Moving back left. The Center left screen is a real time satellite image of their location we will be able to toggle it through a variety of settings adjusting in and out as needed. As you can see it shows them on the move now as they exit the staging area, and approach the helipad.”  


Alice paused when Cielia leaned forward a bit, and focused on the eight, small green triangles moving, in more or less a single file, across the screen. The mission operator leaned in, clicked around the key board, and Cielia flinched as one of the blinking symbols grew in size, and the label Salem, with his new GPS coordinates popped up, adjusting as he walked.

“Yes, the op is about to go wheels up. I’m sorry if you thought you would see him one more time.” Then, quite curtly, “Moving along...Finally, on your far left, is their Mask Vision. This will enable them to do a variety of functions. It can show bad guys, it has a map that they can access if they become lost, it can be used to tag, and target enemies, it shows the location of objectives, and provides night vision in several different display types. All of this will also be displayed,” she paused and punched another series of keys, “up there.”

Cielia looked up, and watched as the the four, sixty inch wide screens along the front wall of the operation center came to life, as well as a fifth that showed, via a video camera on the exterior of the building, the men boarding an SSC helicopter. Before she could react Rios’ voice crackled over her head set, and over the room’s speaker system.

“Murray, Rios. Execute mission clock for Op number, 0018-550, I repeat 0018-550 on my mark. Three, two, one execute. Time is 15:38:12 Zulu time.”

“Murray confirming mission clock started for op number 0018-550 at 15:38:12 Zulu time.”

“Copy that, preparing for comms check at 16:45 Zulu. Rios out.”

“Copy your last, and God’s speed. Murray out.”

Murray turned her attention back to Cielia and began to explain the mission.

“They’ll fly from here to a private airfield out in the Everglades, and from there on a specially modified Bombardier Global Express 6000 to an airfield just over the border from Bulgaria in Macedonia. There they will set up a FOB. All of Secour’s comms are in this plane. It is basically our version of an Air Force’s C41SR.”

“FOB?”

“Forward operations base. Salem and Rios will then load up into a Gulfstream V 550, also modified for our particular needs, and Whitaker the pilot; will fly north toward Lesonovo Bulgaria. He has a flight plan and itinerary to land at the Lesonovo airport under the guise of brining in a wealthy client, Fitzclover, to golf at a nearby resort while looking to open a business, and purchase Bulgarian real estate. In short Salem and Rios are the primary insertion team, Heckler and Giddy the secondary if needed, and the extraction team if things get ugly. Pedro and Zack are in charge of keeping the equipment running as well as providing extra eyes on the monitors, and Secour is the techie; it’s up to him to keep comms up with all of us. After Rios and Salem, his is probably the most nerve wracking job. No comms mean we don’t know how the guys are doing. It’s terrifying when they go dark.

Once the G V is just outside of Lesonovo, at approximately 04:45 Zulu, Salem and Rios will Tandem parachute, under the cover of darkness, into an agricultural area about four klicks from the airport. They will destroy, and cache the chute, spend the day under cover, then at nightfall begin moving west toward their first objective, an industrial area near Garin Elin Pelin, a five klick march across barren farm land paralleling a two lane road about two and a half klicks south of it. They will need to use extreme caution. It’s wide open, no cover, but if our intell is correct not due to be worked for several weeks so they should meet up with no one. As far as our client is concerned we do not exist. If they are captured they are on their own. There they will infiltrate the building that is suspected of housing a fugitive Bosnian general wanted on war crimes. They will plant very special surveillance equipment, and move on. He is believed to be using the stretch of railway and the main highway, the A-1, that the guys will be re-conning to move arms out of Macedonia, through Bulgaria, and into Serbia. Several attempts have been made to infiltrate his organization by Bulgarian and Macedonian authorities, and all the agents have gone missing, and are presumed dead. As the mission progresses I will continue to fill you in. There is no need to get too far ahead. Depending on the ever changing situation their mission will vary.”

The next hour past by with incredible slowness, and Cielia wondered how Alice managed to just sit, and so patiently observe her monitors, while juggling between several aids and operatives. Finally at exactly 16:45 Zulu the radio chirped and Secour’s voice piped up.

“Murray, Secour, comms check.”

The team had switched to the Bombardier, and was in the air headed for Europe. The team spent the next hour working through various tests, and signal settings until Secour was satisfied the gear was fully dialed in. All the men’s masks were configured, the SSC plane’s comms were linked through various routers and systems, then finally the special monitoring gear the men wore was fine tuned.

Cielia found this part of the sequence fascinating. The doctor in her was thrilled to see how the men functioned during their jobs. When it came time for Salem to zero in his gear she sat up straighter, and observed the readings with a well trained eye, taking notes as the men worked through the testing. Giddy, the team’s primary medic was in charge of taking the readings with conventional medical gear; then those results were compared to what they were sending back to Murray. Then the monitors were, if needed, fine-tuned until the readings were identical. She listened to the work over the op center’s speakers.

“Fifty you’re up get your happy ass over here son.”

Cielia smiled at Giddy’s beckoning for Elliot, and Alice caught it in the corner of her eye.

“Elliot is such a pain in the team’s ass you just wait and see. This is only the beginning. I’m constantly amazed that they don’t kill him _before_ they even get to the objective.”

Giddy’s voice drew her attention, and she turned back to the screens.

“Mask on. Good. Camera on. Talk to me Murray.”

The screen on Cielia’s far right flickered, and Giddy’s face swam into view on the right side, Salem’s side, of the split screen. Alice worked her controls and the screen switched to a single screen, and Cielia blinked as the Bombardier’s interior came into focus through Salem’s point of view.

“We are clear and steady, is Rios set? I’m switching back to split screen.”

“Roger that.”

The screen switched back to a split view, and Cielia could see Salem looking at Rios, and Rios looking at Salem. It was an odd and confusing picture to watch. Just before Alice switched it back to single she saw Rios shake his head when Elliot flipped up his middle finger at the bigger man. Salem’s view disappeared, and the testing continued.

“Gimme your arm Fifty, BP first.”

“I seriously hate this shit Giddy.”

“We know.”

“I seriously do not like being the DoD’s fucking Guinea Pig.”

“We know, and shut up, or the reading will by high.”

“You’re high, this plane is high, my BP’s just fucking fine.”

“115/70, Murray?”

“115/70, calibration’s good. Heart rate next Giddy.”

“52 per minute here.”

“Perfect, now…”

“That’s my word, missy.”

“Elliot be quiet.” Giddy begged just wanting to get the calibration over with and get Salem settled into bed. “Next, Respiratory rate, is sit still god damn it Fifty!”

A minute ticked by and Giddy spoke up again.

“Murray I have 13 per minute.”

“Copy that Giddy, and his temp?”

“Hot baby. I am always one fuckin’ hot item sister. I am so hot that I am…”

“Elliot, do not make me fly to Macedonia, and kick your skinny little bitch ass all the way back home. Open your mouth and…”

“It’s always open for you Alice my sweet assed baby cakes. Ow! God damn it Rios that fucking hurt. Now we have to start over. I’m fucking concussed I think! Tell ‘em Giddy!”

“Open your trap, put the thermometer under your wagging tongue, and show some respect for Murray before I beat you senseless, Salem!”

“Fine already. Jesus Christ, and fuck me twice!”

Giddy propped the thermometer under Salem’s tongue, and after the allotted amount of time removed the device.

“97.8 orally. So for Salem, with his typical .58 of a degree high, difference from the vest, you should have 98.38.”

“Copy that. O2?”

“100%”

“Am I done now? Am I healthy enough for some ass wipe Bulgarian gun runner to kill?”

“Roger that.” Giddy sighed.

“Bed-Salem-now.” Cielia heard Rios voice snap. It was definitely an order, and left Salem no room to argue.

“Bed Salem now. Bed Salem now! Yes dad I will go to sleep. Have to have my beauty rest before marching off into certain death. Here, I think I will just take this spot. Yup, my spot. Oh and look it even has my favorite, comfy blue blankie, and a cute itty bitty plane pillow. Stupid god damned gun running, racist sons a bitches. Why do we bother, why do we bother to go all over this god forsaken planet cleaning up other peoples’ messes.” He railed while crawling into the small bunk. “Oh that’s right, Elliot, because the pay is god damned awesomely, fantastically, incredibly, undeniably, marvelously… ah….help me out here fellas I’m running out of ly’s. No? Ok then, fuckingly, damnably…”

“You are not going to sleep, Elliot.” Rios warned. “Go to sleep before I strangle you slowly!”

“Goodly! Is goodly a word Giddy. You’re the book-ly one?”

“Tranq him, Giddy.”

“Roger that, Rios.”

“Fuckin’ come near me with a needle, and I will throw you outta this plane, Guidry.”

“Guidry? Wow he must be serious, Rios. I can use a low dose like during that flight to Morocco; he’ll be up around an easy hour and a half before we land; plenty of time to eat, and get his bearings. Hold him down, I’ll get it.”

“No Giddy Come on Tyse…” Salem whined. “Tyse, I am, I am! See, all tucked in, all comfy cozy, all sleepy, and do you guys think that it’s better to stick your money in the front of a dancer’s G-string, or the hip part.” He asked lying on his back animatedly mimicking sticking money in a stripper’s G. “For me I think it’s the hip ‘cause then the money doesn’t cover stuff up, or no in the back. Yea, then it fans around like a tail, and having a tail is a cool thing right now, a tail and wings, and then you have a piece of tail worth money; so guys front, hip or…”

“Grab his legs Heck!”

“No Tyse! Ok fine, I am closing my eyes. See eyes are all closed. See rolling over so I can’t see you guys anymore. My mouth’s zipped shut tightly ooh another ly…

“Fifty shut the fuck up, and sleep!” They team screamed in near unison.

“Fuck me; you guys suck suckily!”

For the next several minutes Cielia listened as Murray and Rios worked with Secour to finalize the settings. The contract writer was meticulous in her preparations, and Cielia developed a true respect for the strong, petit woman. At 18:45 it seemed that the session was winding down, and Cielia sank back into her chair when Rios, sounding a bit tired, made his final contact.

“Ok Murray, I’m gonna crash. Elliot’s out cold, finally. He had a rough week, and he’s gonna need this full ten hour flight to rest, and to recoup. Heck and Secour are on ops, and the rest of us are hitting the racks.”

“Roger that, Rios. By the looks of it Elliot is resting well too. His VS’s are stable, and if he stays this way he’ll be good to go when you two drop. Sleep well, and I will talk to you in nine hours at 03:45 Zulu, Murray out.”

“Roger that, Rios out.”

“So that’s it?” Cielia asked. “Now we just sit back, and wait for them to hit Macedonia.”

“Yup, I suggest eating some dinner, and trying to sleep. Once they have boots on the ground things are bound to heat up.”

“Is Elliot always so, so animated?”

Alice chuckled at the remark. Animated, she supposed, was one way to describe it, but more accurately it was closer to burning off nervous tension.

“More like burning off nervous tension. He’s a handful. What is scary is when he slips into that mode _during_ an op. Then it is all Rios can do to reign him in. He tends to be worse the more exhausted he is as well, and today he is running on empty. He’ll stay down. His bunk is the best on the plane. The only real bed so to speak. All of the other guys only have reclining seats.”

“Why?” Cielia spurt out surprised by the revelation. “Rios out ranks him.”

Alice chuckled. “He’s the smallest, he’s the weakest, and he expends ten times the energy to keep up with Rios, than any of the other men. For us, for the team, one of our top priorities is keeping Salem rested and healthy. I figure he'll drop an easy twenty to thirty pounds during the mission. For Rios that’s a drop in the bucket, but for Elliot that’s a ton of weight, and he didn’t, because of the rapid development of this mission, have time to bulk up. So he gets the bed, and he sleeps, even it does come to Giddy flat out tranqing him.”

Cielia pondered Alice’s words while watching Salem’s vital signs on the screen. All of his numbers had dropped slightly showing that the man was most certainly at rest. What shocked her though was Rios’. Within mere moments of signing off the big operator’s numbers had also settled into a pattern indicative of sleep. Surprised she questioned Murray.

“Rios is out already? My god I wish I could do that!”

“Yup, they just shut down. It seems like it should be metabolically impossible, but it’s not. Salem can too when he needs to. It’s a learned skill, or so I have been told. Sleep is tough to come by during an op, and they might only get an hour, or even less at a time for it. They can’t afford to waste that precious time tossing and turning. So somehow it’s just like flicking a switch, and they’re out. Believe me I have tried to learn it, but I can’t. They’re in good shape so come on, I’ll show you to the cafeteria, and we’ll eat. It’s a Prime Rib and Lobster night, and I gave up on starving out of a guilty conscience while my guys are starving in the field a long time ago. Just don’t let them know.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission briefing from Elliot's point of view.

**_ Wavy Relationships _ **

**_ Chapter Eight _ **

 

Salem pushed shut the heavy steel door to their ready room, rested his forehead against its cool surface, and with his right hand clicked the deadbolt into place. He needed to get rid of Cielia. To clear her completely from his mind and memory, but he was nervous. He’d never performed his secret ritual near anyone before, and he tried to forget the seven men seated behind him hoping Rios would understand and give him a moment.

Elliot squeezed his eyes shut, and in a whisper only noticeable by the flutter of his lips beneath three days’ worth of light brown stubble he began the mantra he’d used for so long he had no true recollection of where or from whom he had learned it. It could have been one of the countless councilors he’d encountered as a child, or one of the several foster parents that the state had tasked with his care, or maybe, and probably more likely, it was a ritual he’d developed on his own; desperate for some sort of way to ease the terror, and pain that plagued him throughout childhood. How or where Salem had given up on cyphering out. All that mattered to him was that the strange mantra and ritual worked. So while the rest of the team opened their briefing folders, Elliot took the time to go through the age old routine.

The only person in his life he’d spared from the ritual’s fate was Rios for fear that once he managed to lose the big man, and needed to cross the threshold of actually sending him away he would lose the key to retrieve him. He’d sent the entire team away at some point, but that was long ago in the very beginning, then slowly, after realizing how badly he needed them, he’d recalled them one by one from their doom. The only man to warrant sending away recently was Heckler. Once, two years ago, and just days ago, though it seemed far longer, for teasing him about Cielia

He closed his eyes, and visualized Cielia with every bit of detail that his memory could muster. Her long blond hair, her crystal blue eyes, her not too large, but ample breasts; her smile when he made her giggle, the sound of her firm yet feminine voice, and a vision of her, while looking to his left, as they paddled out to the break together in the early morning as the sun was rising. Then he allowed the memory of her constant badgering to push away the good things, he sighed at the hurt he felt when she refused to just drop the issue, and let him alone. He let the pain of her transgressions crush his heart, and then he began the ritual. He visualized her walking down deep into the earth via a long dark tunnel. At the end barely visible he visualized a great iron door, with a huge bronze lock, and in his right hand he imagined clutching the huge key that fit it. Visualization clear and real in his mind’s eye he whispered the secret words to finish the ritual.

 

“I see you Cielia in my mind.

I send you far so far away.

I watch you march into the earth; away, away and there’s no more pain.

I hold the key to seal your fate.

To lock away the pain I hate.

You cannot hurt me anymore.

I’ve locked you up and slammed the door.

 

He flinched slightly as the vision door swung wide open with a bang, and as Cielia stepped in, and began to fade from his vision, he allowed a vibrant visual of Heckler to replace her. He pictured the tall grinning man walking free from the prison, his dark brown hair a bit longer than normal, and his blocky face covered in nearly blond stubble since he’d had no way to cut it or shave. His chestnut eyes twinkled with their normal mirth, and he waved excitedly back at Salem before flashing him a thumbs up. Then, with a quick look over his shoulder he pointed to a somewhat confused and fading Cielia, before marching steadily toward the light, and back into Salem’s life. Salem shuddered a little. Although he’d made things right with Heck earlier he hadn’t fully released him from the memory cave. Once Heckler was clear, Salem visualized slamming the giant doors shut, firmly inserting the key in the lock, and turning it.

 

Now I’ve gone, and locked you up.

And now I’ll hide my secret key.

If by chance you make things right

I’ll let you back into my life.

 

Before he could turn from the cold steel ready room door a strong hand clamped down upon his right shoulder and squeezed, while another massaged the base of his neck slamming him back to reality. Then he felt Rios’ breath, hot, and familiar along the right side of his neck and ear. It smelled of coffee and Tyson’s mouthwash. It smelled like the bacon the big man had eaten for breakfast. He smelled Kevlar and gun oil, and sweat from past missions. If he truly focused he’d smell blood, his, Tyson’s, and scores of enemies. It all smelled familiar, and it was all Elliot needed in life. The familiarity of Rios finalized the ritual, and for Salem everything, all he needed to live from that point forward resided in the small ready room.

“Come on Salem. You are my partner and all I fucking need to get through this op. I need you with me Ellie. I need you. I need you a hundred percent. I trust you to be just that.” Rios whispered into his ear. “Ok, now we don’t have a lot of time. I need you to start absorbing the topo maps. There’s a lot of ground we’re gonna need to cover, and I want it all inside that amazing map remembering brain a yours.”

Salem huffed pushed free of Rios, and strode to his spot at the long table bitching while he walked.

“Roger that fat ass, and back the fuck off ‘a me fuck…horny much you sorry fuck! And didn’t your ma ever tell you to brush your teeth before heading out for the day; fuck me twice, and I’m gonna have to share a two man shelter with your smelly fat ass. Where’s my maps?”

Rios shook his head and watched Elliot sit down, wondering if the young man would ever just give up, drop his defenses, and let him all the way in.

Once in his seat Salem tuned the rest of the men out. One of the team’s main attributes was their ability to compartmentalize when needed then switch to working as a team when the time came. Salem, despite his typical hyperactivity, was remarkably good at it, and now it was Salem’s sole job to ignore the team, and allow Rios to work out the logistics of the op with the support members while he set about learning the land. He had a near photographic memory for terrain and structure layouts. That combined with an inherent feel for direction made him, if for no other reason, an invaluable tool for Rios. He studied the topographic maps while sliding his Silva Expedition 4B Military compass over them. He took notes in his waterproof memo book, and also clicked around on his laptop while studying satellite shots of the route on the room’s 6sixty inch wide monitor. Salem committed large amounts of the information, such as latitude and longitude points, to memory. There were ten major coordinates that the pair would need to interact with. These Salem memorized. The in between targets he noted on his topo maps, and in a mental picture. He took note of roads, railways, tree cover, and anything else that he’d need to safely pilot them through the mission right down to structures that seemed deserted and could provide possible shelter should they need it. Convinced he’d covered the intell he waited for a lull in Tyson’s discussion, and then spoke up.

“I don’t like it.”

“Talk to me Salem.”

Salem clicked the keys of his laptop, and the satellite view spun out of focus, re-digitized and settled back into view on the ready room’s large monitor.

“They have us inserting here; two klicks off, well south of off this road. It’s the main road, the only road out of Lesonovo to Garin Elin Pelin. I don’t like the idea of being caught coming in, and having traffic going by. Traffic that’s friendly so we can’t just take them out, copy me? Sure it’ll be dark, but something as big as a parachute canopy might get picked up in some bastard’s high beams. That and the sound of a canopy opening…it’s loud bro especially out in the middle of nowhere. Damned deafening. And how the hell are we gonna ditch the chute. Bury that bitch in frozen ground. I’d never be able to dig a hole deep enough that the farmer won’t till it up when he comes back.”

“Recommendations.” Rios queried, gruffly.

Salem cleared his throat, and began talking; his voice pitched a bit lower than normal and firm with conviction for his logistical adjustment.

“We insert back here.” He pointed to a series of low hills fifteen klicks southwest of Lesonovo. “Here we have cover to cache the chute, and lay low with some terrain for concealment until nightfall. I mean I can hide us out in that flat assed tract of farm land, but it ain’t no easy thing, and that’s if we don’t get popped dropping in. Then we hump it this way, see,” he used a laser pointer to show his intended path on the monitor. “We track along this unimproved road which they want us to monitor any way, and wind up coming into IIA from the south east at say 111 degrees or so. We’d have eyes on that dirt road way for fifteen extra K’s. I know it’s a bit longer of a walk, but I feel more confident humping the fifteen extra K’s, than dropping so close to that highway. I mean I can get us through that field no problem in the dark; fuck if I move off that road far enough I could do it in the middle of the day, easier alone, but still… See where I’m at here, Rios.”

Rios and the team let the younger man’s plan settle in the minds for a moment before Heckler finally spoke up.

“I like it, Rios. Fifty’s right, and if Giddy and me need to go in after you that’s how I’d want to do it. Nice call, Fifty real nice. You _will_ be doubling back along that 111 degree track, but so what, you’ll have eyes on that dirt road we think the target might be using, not once but twice. Murray’s way and you’re just marching too near that busy paved road, and getting no intell. It’s a wasted walk. This op’s all about intell right? So we go in, and get as much as possible.”

“I agree with Heck.” Giddy added. “My concern is the added footwork. Fifty how’s your leg? Also it’s god damned cold. Ten to twelve degrees Fahrenheit at a low, and not much better than the low forties by day, and this year’s on the cold side for them. You haven’t had time to bulk up at all for this. I see you dropping twenty to thirty pounds as it is; you sure you’re up to thirty plus K or more extra. You’ll be packing ninety pounds plus of gear and water, and your last Body Mass was light only twenty-one point three, so you don’t have shit for fat to burn.”

“I’ll be ok. There are ample streams all over the place. I’ll drop water if I have to. Snow melt too; it’s cold but not so cold I can’t boil snow. I’m packing the Fifty, but light on ammo. As far as it seems this is forward recon op, and not a kill op so hopefully that will work out. I’m for my route.”

“Secour?” Rios prodded.

“Doesn’t change comms, Rios. The satellites are all still in the same places to link us, so comms are a non-issue. I’ll pack several extra recording devices that you can plant along the dirt track on the way in. Hell like Fifty said it will be another entire set of eyes the client wasn’t expecting.”

Rios looked across the table at Elliot who’d gone back to studying his maps. The big man knew from long experience that Salem had said his piece, and that he’d wait for Rios’ decision. That decision would be final, and the smaller man would kill himself to see that plan through. It was Giddy’s words that concerned him the most. The current op was slated for two weeks, but Alice had intimated that it could stretch out, if the target changed his routine, to the point that Giddy and Heck would actually run a re-supply op. Salem would need calories to stay fit. That was a simple enough task. They could pack extra food stuffs if they dropped water. The real trick was getting him to actually consume the high caloric foods. Finally he sighed, and prepared to make his mind known.

“We do it Fifty’s way. He’s right; the other way’s too exposed. Heck call in an extra two weeks of the high caloric stuff, and pack it in my ruck. No make it three it’s light. Salem said water shouldn’t be an issue so pack in that dried shake stuff he hates too; mixing it should be easy enough if water’s plentiful. Giddy I want extra pain meds for Salem’s leg. Cortisone shots too, and I want him shot up with that and Cipro before we go, and pack me extra, and anything else I might need for flu and any lung stuff he might need. He doesn’t do well in the cold and damp. Plan for the worst. I’ll inform Alice, and she can get with Whitaker, and the client about flight plan adjustments.”

“Shouldn’t need any, Rios.” Salem cut in. “Same flight path we just jump sooner’s all.”

“I know Salem, but they need to verify.” Rios countered before continuing to brief the team about the changes.

Salem returned to seemingly ignoring the exchange, and the slight against his health. He knew, although it did make him feel weak, that Rios was right to worry over his health. He didn’t tend to do well in cold wet environments. So it was better to be prepared than caught flat footed.

The meeting broke up and without further discussion the team made their way to the waiting chopper, and the start of Mission number 0018-550. Rios just hoped that Salem’s health, mental and physical would hold, and that Alice’s intell was correct. Two weeks was more than long enough to be creeping around the frozen wilds of Bulgaria.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Nine

**_ Wavy Relationships _ **

**_ Chapter Nine _ **

 

[](http://s1339.photobucket.com/user/chairtoboleek/media/ROTHALION-HP/BOE/61211e9c-b96e-44c4-bce5-e122cdccda1f.jpg.html)

03:40 Zulu time found Cielia and Murray back in the control center comfortably in their chairs. Cielia watched as the mission specialist re-checked, and made adjustments to the monitors. At 03:45 Rios’ voice boomed across the room’s speaker system, and the doctor startled a bit, amazed at how the team managed to keep the mission on so precisely on schedule.

“Murray, Rios. Confirm DZ coordinates as; Latitude 42°34'24.62"N and Longitude 23°45'56.98"E. ETA for drop one five mikes.”

“Copy that Rios, as DZ coordinates of Latitude 42°34'24.62"N and Longitude 23°45'56.98"E. ETA for drop one five mikes.”

“Winds are favorable at five K easterly, drop elevation is 25,950 feet.”

“Copy that, Rios.”

Cielia watched as Rios checked, and re-checked his and Salem’s gear. Then Giddy checked the strange tandem harness, before Zac too gave the rig a once over. It looked awkward, and with Salem attached to his chest Rios could barely move about. The view on the screen from Rios’ ballistic helmet with oxygen supply was mostly the back of Salem’s head. Salem’s point of view was of the interior of the G V and of the men inspecting the duo’s gear. She could barely see Salem beneath his huge ruck which he was wearing in front on his chest rather than his back. She wasn’t’ sure where Rios’ was.

“Why do they jump Tandem?” She asked. “It seems so awkward.”

“Well for all of his many talent’s Salem cannot for the life of himself parachute. You drop that boy from fifteen feet high, without the slightest breeze, with the earth stopped in its rotation round the sun, and he would still find a way to miss the entire planet.”

“That seems a bit harsh.” Cielia snapped defensively. It seemed to her that the bulk of the team continuously doubted Salem’s abilities. “I’ve jumped. It’s not all that difficult on a good day. Pretty easy really.”

“Exactly Cielia.” Murray countered sternly, noting the edge in the doctor’s voice. “Which is why after several botched jumps, several hundred hours of trying to fix him, and several near death experiences, Pedro, and our R and D guys developed this system for them. This is a HALO jump too. Rios will be steering them for nearly thirty miles. Their rig is a bit more elaborate than your typical civilian set up, and with Rios steering, Salem can actually lay down very effective cover fire with his fifty cal. For that matter we have, on two occasions, used it to glide them in along targeted aircraft to take them down. It’s very risky but very effective.”

Before Cielia could reply Rios’ voice interrupted her.

“Drop in five, four, three, two, one.” The screen went dark as the pair dove into the frigid Bulgarian night. “Salem, primary Canopy deploy in five-four-three-two mark.”

“Copy that, Rios”

A moment went by, and suddenly Salem’s half of the monitor came to life in an eerie green color that Cielia knew to be a night vision mode. Rios’ followed, and the two began to talk in quiet controlled voices.

“Heading, Salem?”

“Two-seven-three decimal six-three. On my mark come around one-nine decimal five degrees to starboard, and hold at two-eight-six decimal zero-two. Five-four-three-two mark.”

“Roger that. Turning and maintaining on your mark, two-eight-six decimal zero-two.”

“Easy, easy Tyse ok mark, and hold that. Perfect. I have visuals on Bardo ten degrees to starboard, and Mechkovtsi fifteen degrees to port.”

“Copy that.”

Then, it was mostly silent with only the sound of their breathing, and Salem occasionally giving Rios updates on visual markers, or slight course adjustments. All their actions were calm and controlled. It was apparent to the doctor that the pair were more than used to working together. It seemed as though they just read one another’s minds. But, if Cielia had spent more time actually trying to get a true feel for Elliot she’d know what Rios and Alice both knew; the man was near panic, and only through his extraordinary skill at controlling his fear and his emotions was he actually able to function. The only indication of his possible discomfort was his heart rate. Cielia noted that it had jumped to near double his at rest rate of fifty-two. Then, as she watched it began to settle back down to around sixty-five. His ability to calm himself was striking, and she saw that it affected all of his vital signs. For a man, who just a day or so ago had spun completely out of control over a verbal slight, he had remarkable control of himself.

Approximately three minutes into the jump Rios counted down for Main Canopy deployment. The chute opened, and the pair’s descent slowed dramatically. Shortly after that Salem piped up.

“Gear deploy on my mark, three, two, one mark.”

“Copy that, and Salem switch to Infrared, and glass that LZ. Anything bigger than a rabbit shoot it.”

“Copy that.”

The view switched, to an IR visual through Salem’s powerful sniper scope, and Cielia said a silent prayer that nothing bigger than a rabbit showed up. She really didn’t want to think that Salem would actually shoot an innocent person just happening through their LZ. It chilled her hearing Elliot just agree to Rios’ command so readily. She’d heard Murray instruct the team that the Rules of Engagement, so far, were no causalities unless they were in dire fear for their own lives. It was now apparent that Rios didn’t care about Murray’s RoE orders.

“LZ’s clear, Rios.”

“Gear is down, pulling up for final turn and approach in three-two-one; feet up, stand up; nice jump Ellie; good job.”

“Fuck this shit. Get me outta this rig now. I fucking hate it.”

Rios chuckled deep down in his chest, and the rumble vibrated against Elliot’s tense back. It was always the same for every jump. Salem hit the ground, and wanted out of the gear as if it were some creature eating him alive, or some strange contagion.

“Ok, Salem, ok. Easy man, easy just be still a minute. Hey, stop wiggling! I really don’t see what you don’t like about a nice high speed twenty-eight mile glide through the dark followed by a flawless landing in a tiny mountain top clearing just a few meter’s across, Salem. It’s a fucking rush man. People pay good money to do this shit.” Rios chided the fidgety man still chuckling.

“Just unhook me, Rios. I never feel completely safe until I am free of this shit.”

Five minutes later the duo was sorting through their equipment, and preparing to move out. Salem attempted to dig a hole in the frozen ground large enough to cache their unwanted gear, but after twenty minutes, and getting less than four inches of the frozen earth scrapped away he opted to move the gear to the nearby river, and use an AN/M14 Incendiary grenade. The water would mask most of the grenade’s bright light.

The team checked comms, weapons and finally eighteen minutes after landing they headed out in a north westerly direction through fairly dense tree cover up a fifty degree slope. Salem wanted to top the three thousand foot plus high ridge in order to get a bird’s eye view of the valley they would be crossing to achieve their first objective. There was about two feet of crispy topped snow on the ground, and the pair had to crunch through it. Rios worried that the tough going would aggravate the old animal trap injury to Salem’s right leg.

“Leg gonna hold up stomping through this shit? I’m breaking a trail, but it’s still a bitch.”

“Roger that. I’m good. I know this is out of the way Tyse, but we’ll be able to see the whole valley.”

“Yea, I guess, just seems like it’s the hard way Salem. Here eat this.” Rios ordered, reaching back over his left shoulder with a high energy bar clutched in his huge fist.

“Christ Rios don’t start with eat this and drink that; we only just got here.” Elliot snapped grabbing the high energy bar from the bigger man’s gloved hand.

“Just do it.”

An hour and a half later they topped the ridge line, and the valley opened up in front of them.

“See, Lesonovo to the north, Garin to the west there, and that’s objective alpha there. And that, see that thread of road that’s our road they want us to monitor.”

Rios had to admit Salem had been correct; the view gave them a great observation point. From there they could glass their route, and have eyes on just how busy the farmland they would be crossing was. While Salem scanned the valley, and built the hide Rios pitched their small two man tent, and set about boiling some water for coffee on their small Optimus Svae camp stove. It drew its heat from pressurized white fuel enabling it to boil water quite rapidly even in frigid temperatures at altitude. Tent and coffee completed he brought Elliot a thermos full of the extra strong black drink, hard tack soaking in steamy beef bouillon and some Venison jerky that the smaller man liked to munch on.

“Here Salem, coffee, hard tack, Jerky and a few energy bars; eat them Salem. I’m gonna hit the sack, sun up in an hour so, and after that we’re pretty much stuck for the next ten. You warm enough? Air temps only hovering at about thirty.”

“Yea, Tyse I’m good. The new thermals Pedro found for us work great. Seems pretty quiet down there. A train went by moving south slow, and there’s some traffic out on the A-1, but nothing’s moved on that smaller road, the 801. We might a caught some luck this time. Even the little cities seem pretty sleepy.”

“Let’s hope. Wake me in four hours Salem, and don’t fuck around either and let me sleep.”

“Roger that Tyse, sleep good.”

Salem sighed and listened to Rios’ feet crunching through the snow as he walked back away from the ridgeline to where the little tent was. He’d have preferred that Rios set them up for five hour watches. They were looking at about ten hours of daylight that they would have to kill. The four hour set up meant that there would be a two hour time period where they would eat, and share the task of observing the land before they moved out. Once the sun came up they would need to be careful to mask any of their movements. Salem trusted Tyson, but he liked to do his recon alone. There was nothing for it though; Rios was the boss. He keyed his mic, and called up Murray.

“Murray, Salem. Comms check.”

“Go ahead Salem what do you have for us.”

“Rios is out. I have a tight overwatch above the objective on a ridge five point five klicks east of it. Not much moving anywhere. Are we switching to code names or not.”

“Negative, M.I.T. confirms that coms are secure it won’t be necessary. How’s the weather?”

“Fuck you. My balls are blue, and I might lose a few toes, and if you tell me that there’s a good break I’ll kill you slowly when I get home.”

“What about the new thermals?”

“Working great actually, Alice. Any change in the mission objective?”

“Negative, you two will know as soon as I do. Remember to eat, Elliot.”

“Yes mom. What about my train schedule, any luck with that yet? I just had one go by heading south. Slow though, too slow for a passenger train so it must have been freight. I noted it, but it would be nice to have a schedule.”

“Negative seems that the schedule is on a daily basis, and yes it was freight. A lot of freight apparently moves through this corridor which explains why the target is using it as well. The heavy traffic provides good cover. I’ll keep at it, but I wouldn’t count on anything concrete.”

“Roger that then, Salem out.”

This was the part of his job that Salem loved. Just him and his gear lying alone watching his prey. The world became compressed, and he felt a strong sense of security in that compressed environment. His task was clear, his objective was clear, and no one could intrude upon that security. He had to _let_ them in. He controlled every aspect of what invaded his view point, his secure bubble. Salem wasn’t exactly afraid of the real world, but it did, at times, fill him with a nearly uncontrollable feeling of helplessness and dread. It was as if there was simply too much static, too much input, and he often struggled to tune it out, and just go about his business. In the world outside of his scope societal rules tied hands. If someone hurt him he had to respond appropriately; he couldn’t just _take out_ the threat, and threats were everywhere. That sense of having his hands tied, and his options to defend himself limited terrified him, and often resulted in him behaving with unbridled violence when confronted with what he perceived as hostility. He settled back against the tree, wrapped his winter camouflage blanket a bit tighter around his shoulders and with only the end of his Leupold video enhanced spotter’s scope exposed from the hide’s small view port he sighed, flipped the lens cap up, and opened the window to his private world.

Salem could see the whole valley without moving more than forty degrees to his right or left. He clicked from infrared to night vision, and scanned the farm land below. Nothing moved. It was, he figured, too cold. He switched back to IR, and swept the area again with the same result. Content with the security of the nearby farm land, and his points of interest committed to memory he leaned back from the scope, and ate the meager breakfast Rios had brought for him.

Ever since Vasily’s team had introduced him to hard tack Salem continued to eat the ancient staple when in the field. It was hardy, high in the calories he needed, tasty and damn near indestructible. Rios refused to eat it, but Salem, over the years and with Vasily’s help, had come up with various different recipes to make the hard biscuits enjoyable. For him it was as close to comfort food as he could get. Growing up his meals had been equally as meager; often the food stuffs of the local hunters and trappers. It was the simplicity and the idea of self-reliance that the hard tack, bouillon and jerked Venison meant for him that brought him a sense of peace and security. If he could hunt and pr3eserve his catch he could eat. He could live alone in his bubble, and for Salem, still somewhat leery of living with or as a unit, to have the simple food reminded him of that ability, and boosted his often flagging confidence and self-esteem.

Not long after he finished the last bite a set of lights running south on the A-1 caught his attention. The highway was five and a half klicks to the west, but his elevation gave him a good line of sight. To his trained eye the trio appeared to be moving like a small convoy. A lead vehicle followed by a tractor trailer followed by a chase car. He took one more sip of his coffee, set the cup aside, and jammed his eye up against the scope. Closer inspection, at his fullest magnification, confirmed his initial assessment; the group was definitely running together. They changed lanes as a unit, and were moving just slightly faster than the sparse traffic around them. He followed the group for about six klicks, cringing as they neared the town of Mechkovsti afraid he’d lose sight of them. His concerns were for naught though, and as the convoy popped out from behind the low ridge that the small town perched upon he nearly cheered. Then, to his further amazement, they slowed, and pulled to the side of the highway.

Salem clicked on the scope’s video feed to Alice and M.I.T., and scanned the area. He recognized the spot where the trio had stopped. It was the intersection of the train tracks, the A-1 and a smaller two lane road, the 801 and, due to the proximity of the three transportation mediums, one of their objectives. While he watched four men exited the chase car, and set up small warning triangles to the front and rear of the three vehicles. The driver of the truck stayed put. Salem couldn’t see the passenger side of the truck, but beneath the trailer he counted four sets of feet moving back and forth along the road bed. He switched between IR and NVG deciding the NVG was giving him a better view. The men behind the trailer were clustered where the side loading door would be. Salem watched what he knew had to be the group unloading something from the truck. Then, he switched back to IR, and about one hundred yards from the highway he picked up the heat signatures of several more men moving along the rail bed. They climbed the embankment, and began to help the others with the unloading. It galled him that he couldn’t get a look at what the cargo was.

Switching back to NVG Salem studied the four men standing with the chase car. He could tell by their posture and bearing that they were carrying concealed weapons, probably MP5’s that they were all nearly Rios’ size, and all well trained. Whatever this was it was a carefully planned operation. One of the chase car men suddenly pointed down the rail bed. Salem switched to IR, and was shocked when a huge heat signature flared about three clicks farther to the north-west. A train was coming in at a slow rate of speed without a head light. The train finally arrived, and although he couldn’t see it he knew that the men were loading the items from the semi-truck onto the stopped train. They made quick work of the task, and he watched the four sets of feet disappear back into the truck, while the four chase car men retrieved their warning equipment before also loading up. The walkers returned down the embankment, and tracked back down the rail bed. In a matter of only nine minutes the entire operation was finished, and the vehicles pulled back onto the A-1 as the train began to roll back to the north-west the engine now pushing it.

“Murray, Salem. Tell me you got that.” He said excitedly.

“Roger that, it’s grainy, but I’ll have M.I.T. and tech clean it up. What’s your take?”

“I’m guessing this is exactly what the client is talking about. I can’t believe our luck. I don’t know if I should laugh or cry.”

“Why cry?”

“’Cause when things start out so damned good it usually means they’re gonna really head south fast. Have M.I.T. do facial rec on the men too. Who knows we might get lucky again. I’d tell the client too. With this footage we might be able to skip some of the recon now, and just nip this shit in the bud. I’d like nothing more than to put a bullet in this son of a bitch’s brain. I hate those fuckers.”

“Roger that, but try not to take this so personally Elliot; be professional.”

“Fuck you Murray. There’s a damn good chance this fucker had a hand in taking out my Sarajevo team. It is fucking personal, and anytime I get to kill one of those fucks I’m a fucking happy camper.”

“Ok, ok Elliot, but I’m just saying rein it in. I’ll get back to you. I don’t suppose there is any way you could track the train, and see where it offloads.”

“Negative. I’ll lose visual on it in less than two mikes, and I’ll be sun up here in say forty. I don’t want to risk daytime exposure just yet. Salem out.”

At the designated hour and after glassing the surrounding area one last time Salem shrugged out of his hide, and cautiously stood up. He stretched his cramping muscles, and yawned expelling a fine mist of vapor into the crisp morning air. The temperature had dropped as the cloud cover pulled back, and it was now only twenty-five degrees. His nose ran a bit, and he swiped the clear fluid away with the back of his glove.

For the most part he hated the cold. Growing up in the swamps of Louisiana hadn’t prepared him for sub-freezing temps, and even after years of dealing with them on various ops the bitter cold still cut right to his bones. The biggest issue was the pins and plates in his right wrist. They proved to be a painful reminder of the night he’d met Vasily Tyannikov, and the man had snapped his wrist in a drunken fit of rage. Salem forced down the old memory, and rotated the aching joint to try and warm it up. Nothing ever seemed to work. The cold just found its way into the metal, searing the bones making it feel as if they would crack and split apart. He once again made a mental note to see the docs about possibly having the repair worked on, and having the hardware removed. Then, he discarded the idea quite quickly. It would mean surgery, rehab and down time; all activities that Salem hated.

Before waking Rios he fired up the Optimus, and started water for coffee. He shuddered when the flame hissed to life. It was loud, and cut through the quiet of the wooded ridgeline. Next he wandered a bit away, and pissed near the base of a large tree. When finished he buried the yellowed steaming spot with snow and a bit of loose brush. Back in camp he worked over Tyson’s breakfast while checking in with Murray.

“Murray, Salem.”

“Go ahead, Salem”

“The rest of the watch was quiet. Anything on the video?”

“Negative. Picture quality is too degraded for facial rec, but tech’s still working. The client has been informed, and has given us carte blanche to proceed as we see fit. The old schedule is out, and you two are making the calls. Also M.I.T. made out what appears to be a Black Mountain insignia on one of the guards’ jackets so be careful; those guys are good.”

Salem sighed. Black Mountain again. The rival PMC was a proverbial thorn in their side. Conversely he was ecstatic. He’d witnessed first-hand what being locked into a course of action could do to an op when his squad leader in Sarajevo refused to deviate from the proscribed plan. To now have full control of the mission put him at ease.

“Copy that. I’m rousing Tyse,” he said, carefully stirring the beans now warming in the small pot, “so fill him in. Salem…”

“How’s the wrist, Elliot?”

“Bad as fuck, as usual when it’s so cold. Feels like someone’s driving nails through it. Hopefully I can fall asleep.”

“Copy that, and sorry to hear it. The Icy Hot wraps didn’t help?”

“Negative.”

“Well maybe when you get back you can talk to Cielia about it. She’s a damn fine Ortho you know.”

“Who?” he asked; removing the boiling beans from the small stove, and setting some more water on the hissing flame with a dehydrated chunk of MRE beef in it.

Silence filled his ear piece. The odd reply threw Murray, and she was trying to comprehend it. Who? What did he mean _who_? Maybe the signal had dropped out. That had to be it.

“Salem, I repeat. Maybe when you guys get back you should talk to _Cielia_ about it. She’s a damn fine Ortho. Copy that Salem?”

“I copy, Murray.” He squeaked, annoyed that she was being so dense. “Do you? I said who. Whiskey, Hotel, Oscar who. Copy that?”

“Copy that.”

“Good. I gotta get Tyse up. Salem out.”

The connection went dead, and the two women were left to wonder what he’d meant by the odd reply.

Salem took the heated MRE and the full thermos to the hide. He carefully set the items inside on a small flat rock, along with the empty wrappers from the food bars Tyson ordered him to ingest, and covered them with a corner of the thermal blanket so that they would stay hot. Then, he moved to the tent. Kneeling down he unzipped the shelter, and squeezed in. Tyson was asleep on his back in his North Face Inferno sleeping bag. The small artic tent was actually warm from what little body heat Rios’ bag had lost. He shook Rios’ feet, and called out to him.

“Yo Tyse, up and at ‘em, Tubby.”

Tyson opened his eyes, but didn’t move. He studied Salem in the morning light, and yawned scrubbing his hands across three days’ worth of stubble.

“Out in five. Zip it back up.”

Salem ducked back out. It was a routine the men had been through more times than Salem could count. It was as normal to the pair as brushing their teeth. In five minutes Rios ducked out of the shelter, and tramped off to piss. He returned, and took the welcome cup of coffee from Elliot’s outstretched hand. It was just the way Rios liked it; hot enough to help maintain the core body warmth he’d acquired in the tent, but not so hot he couldn’t drink it.

Salem watched him sip it eager to see if he’d brewed it correctly.

“It’s good Salem, perfect. Thanks.”

Salem beamed. For Elliot it was the small accomplishments that mattered, the simple tasks he performed properly that made Rios happy.

“Call Murray once you’re settled. Had a contact just before sun up; she can fill you in. I caught those sorry fuckers red handed, Rios. Video’s in the scope. We also now have total control. There’s a bean and some dry square, rehydrated thingy MRE hot and ready for you with the thermos in the hide with your hot sauce. I guess I’m gonna hit it.”

“Ok, oh hey man just crawl in my bag Elliot. It’s still warm.”

“Ok, hell yea Tyse, that works. Salem out.”

In the tent Salem zipped the vestibule’s flap shut. He then removed his boots, Gortex outer pants and cargo pants leaving just the new thermal base layer pants Pedro had found for them. Next he stripped off his tac vest, parka and shirt, again leaving just the thermals. He arranged the lot so that he could rapidly don it all again if need be. Finally, he opened the flap to the tent, and crawled inside bringing only his Makarov and knife. Rios’ sleeping bag looked warm and inviting so he wasted no time crawling in, and getting settled. He zipped the bag two thirds of the way up, and leaned back against his back pack after retrieving his small water proof notebook and a pen from it. Then, he began writing.

_Salem’s Notes_

_December 16 ‘99_

_Bulgaria: Day one: 1215 Zulu_

_Arrived DZ in good shape, Rios didn’t slam us into a cliff face or some other catastrophe. Was actually a beautiful ride down but I still hate it. Weather is for shit, I’m fucking freezing. My whole body hurts. There’s nothing like sub-freezing cold to remind you of every bone you’ve ever smashed or muscle or tendon or ligament you’ve pulled. My fucking nose even hurts. This job sucks. I hate it but what can I do? Caught some luck and had eyes on the objective though so maybe we can speed this shit up and get home soon. All this shit just brings back Sarajevo and I can’t seem to relax. It was the gun runners fueling the flames back then and they’re still at it. It was these bastards that took away my team. I didn’t say anything to Rios or Murray well not that I was sure anyway but this guy this Ivan Kasun we’re after he was in Sarajevo. I know him by name and face. He was the one I saw trading drugs and money to Freemont to for guns. He was there the day I clipped Monte. He is responsible for killing my team. I just feel it. I know it. Him and Monte sent the Russian after me. Him and Monte nearly killed me. Someday I’ll get to Monte but right now I’ll have this bastard’s head. And if I’m wrong so fucking what he’s still a soulless women and children, widow making son of a bitch who needs to be iradicated._

_Enough innocents have died at the hands of these sick bastards._

_I’m sleeping in Tyse’s bag. It’s way too big for me but it smells like him and I feel safe. Maybe I can relax a little. I made his coffee right and I ate his damned energy bars too so he should be happy. I just hope my leg and wrist hold up I can’t let him down. Can’t let my old team down either. I guess if there’s a heaven they’ll be looking down when I cap this sorry bastard’s ass._

_Salem out._

Journal complete he tucked the notebook back into its secret spot in his pack, scooted deeper into the voluminous down sleeping bag, zipped it up completely, and was asleep in mere minutes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
